


Colonize

by AvocadoLove



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Colonization, Enemies to Friends, Human Trafficking, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-06-05 11:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15170108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvocadoLove/pseuds/AvocadoLove
Summary: Morgan grew up with a bug-out bag tucked under her pillow and a multi-tool in her lunch box, though she never bought into end of the world scenarios. At seventeen, she’s just trying to keep the peace with her survivalist junkie father.Nothing could have prepared her or anyone else in her high school for an alien abduction.Taken aboard an alien spacecraft, Morgan and every other kid in her high school are dumped on an entirely new planet. No explanation, no field guide, and no rules.And human beings aren’t the only new arrivals.Morgan’s never been a team player, and she never imagined facing disaster with a bunch of confused, terrified teenagers. To live she’ll have to make allies—human and otherwise.  Because she has no intention of settling down and starting anew somewhere else. Whoever brought her here can bring her back.But first, she must survive.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Posting some original fiction here. Would appreciate any thoughts or crit.

Morgan woke to the sound of the smoke alarm blaring.

Before she opened her eyes, she reflexively reached over the side of her bed until the tips of her fingers brushed the rough strap of her bug-out bag. Her father insisted she and her sister sleep with the tactical, military-style bag under their pillow, but that made for a stiff neck in the morning. Morgan's concession to sanity was to keep it within arm's reach.

Finally, she opened her eyes. Her bedroom was dark. Not a hint of smoke, and the air around her felt cool.

Both evidence and experience suggested her father was in the hallway, holding a lit candle to the smoke detector.

No danger. Just another drill.

That realization woke Morgan the rest of the way and she remembered what tomorrow was.

 _Or really_ , she thought, glancing at her alarm clock which showed 3 a.m. on the dot, _what today is._

Scowling, she let the bug-out bag drop from her fingers and pulled her pillow over her head instead.

It didn’t help. The smoke alarm was piercing. Soon, Morgan heard her younger sister’s footsteps thumping down the hall. Emma was only eleven years old and still thought these drills were the start of a fun family weekend camping. She would be excited to miss out on school tomorrow.

Morgan, seventeen years old and trying to keep her grades up, knew better.

The smoke alarm cut off with a final whoop. The batteries had probably been removed.

"Up and at ‘em, Morgan!" her father called. “Society’s collapse waits for no one. You can do your make-up in the car."

Morgan scowled. Her father had caught her applying lipstick _once_ , six months ago, and had gotten it into his head that his little girl was turning into a lady with all the concerns of a stereotypical Hollywood Valley girl.

"I have school tomorrow!" she yelled back, voice muffled from under the pillow.

There was a pause, then the heavy tread of footsteps as her father made his way down the hall. He opened her bedroom door. "Get up. You know this isn't a game."

Irritated, Morgan tossed the pillow aside and sat up. The rectangle of light from the hallway light made her dad look large in silhouette.

"I have finals Monday, which means pre-tests today,” she said.

The backlight obscured her father's own scowl, but she could picture it clear as day on his face. Jason Hennasey’s day job was fixing whatever broke that had an engine attached. He was good enough at it that he was able to support two girls in a single-parent home. Working under the table helped. However, he pulled long hours, and the grease was practically ingrained into the lines of his face, as was stress from constant worry. “The radio says all indications are that the stock market will collapse by close of trading today. You know what will happen, then. There will be a run on the banks, then panic as people realize their money’s gone. We need to get out of town before that happens.”

Once, his words would have sent a chill down Morgan’s spine. Now, after years of evacuations for the upcoming “collapse”, she had become numb. No doubt, at the end of the doom-and-gloom radio program, the on-air personality had asked for a donation to keep fighting the good cause. Her father ate up every word and gave generously.

There was no use pointing this out to him. She’d tried for years. Instead, Morgan straightened up, pushing her reddish-brown hair back and trying to look as adult as possible. "If that does happen, I have my car and my bug-out bag. I’ll join up with you guys at the cabin after school.”

"Absolutely not. The roads will be choked with refugees."

The roads would be choked with weekend holiday goers all heading up the mountain, but her father would only see refugees who knew the truth as well as he did.

When the stock market _didn't_ collapse, her father would act like nothing had happened, or say tragedy had been averted by the skin of their teeth. Later, his favorite radio personality would claim he received enough donations and that God had listened to their prayers. Whatever. This cycle was a well-worn one.

Emma peeked around their father. She was a younger version of Morgan—reddish hair, light brown eyes, and skin that freckled instead of tanned. Her frown, though, was all her father’s. “Better to be safe than sorry,” she said piously.

“Get in the car, Emma. I’ll be there in a minute.” Jason gave Emma a tiny shove to get going and the girl obediently ran away. Her tactical bug-out bag had pink tassels on the end.

Jason flipped the light switch and stepped into Morgan’s room. “Is this about that college stuff again?”

That hit a nerve. Anger boiled up, stiffening her spine. “You mean, how I can't get financial aid because _you_ refuse to give me your tax information? So now I’m going to have to rely on scholarships or loans to get a degree. _That_ stuff again?”

“It won’t matter.” He sighed. “Even if there’s anything left of the world after this… You realize those elite eggheads are trying to plug you into their corporate machine, Morgan. And you’re letting them.”

“Oh. My. God.” She wanted to scream. “The world isn’t going to end tomorrow! Just like it didn't end two months ago when they said North Korea was going to bomb us. Or last year before the election. Nothing _ever_ happens.”

“Morgan—”

“If you want to waste your time, that's fine,” she snapped. “I’m done.”

Her father's jaw worked. He was susceptible to screaming conspiracies, but he wasn't an angry man, himself. His tone, though, took on a chill. "I don't know what's been going on with you recently, but I know you have more sense than this. Your sister and I will be up in the cabin. I pray you will see reason and join us. If not, well, best of luck to you.” He turned away.

"See you when you get back!" she yelled after him.

He didn't reply.

 

* * *

 

 

Morgan was too angry to fall back asleep. She tossed and turned, and by the time she felt tired enough to drift off, she had a whole twenty minutes until the alarm.

She showered and dressed in a fog. The house was eerily quiet without her sister running around and it felt strange to take out her phone and check emails without worrying if her father was watching. Smart phones were forbidden in the house (can’t risk the government tracking them down). She had to purchase this one and a second phone for her sister with her own babysitting money.

Emma was still under their father’s sway, but like most tweens, she wanted a phone for her social life. She had kept it faithfully hidden and hadn’t snitched.

By now she and her father would be at the cabin, which was located fifty miles away in the Allegheny mountains. Normally, Morgan liked it there. She enjoyed hunting and fishing, searching for mushrooms and early-season berries. Best yet, no electronics were allowed, and their father followed his own rules. That meant she didn’t have to listen to anyone screaming fire and brimstone at them from the TV or radio.

Eating cereal with one hand, phone in the other, Morgan swiped to a website that showed the stock market.It had yet to open for trading, but there wasn’t any early worry about a crash.

With a sigh, she closed the browser and texted her sister. Signal was spotty at best in the mountains, but she might be able to receive it.

Sorry about this morning. I’ll be up on Saturday.

There. She had extended an olive branch. Her father would forgive her the moment she showed up. That’s just how their family worked.

Mood brightening, she put her cereal bowl in the sink and went about the rest of her morning routine.

However, she must have been fuzzier than she thought because she was halfway down the road before she realized she had grabbed her bug-out bag instead of her school backpack.

“Crap,” she muttered, reaching with one hand to search through the bag for her wallet. No luck. It was back home, sitting on her bed.

Luckily her textbooks were secured in her locker and she could borrow whatever else she needed from Ashley, her best friend. But her wallet had a spare five-dollar bill. It looked like she was eating an MRE instead of school lunch today. As if she wasn’t already enough of a weirdo.

* * *

 

The MRE, as usual, tasted like dry toilet paper. The main dish was supposed to be spaghetti with meat sauce but the food didn’t taste like either.

Morgan chased it down with half her water bottle in one hand, checking her phone for the stock market with the other. Not a hint of a drop. In fact, the DOW was up a few points today. Figured.

Sighing, she set her phone aside and eyed the empty seat in front of her. Ashley was nowhere to be found. They usually shared first period AP Chemistry, but Ashley’s desk had been empty.

Looking around one last time in vain for her friend, Morgan texted. Where are you?

Ashley, as usual, was surgically attached to her phone. Her reply was instant.

I’m sick. (Of school.) Lol.

Morgan frowned. Her fingers started typing before she thought better of it.

Are you kidding? This is the last day of prep we have before finals.

This time there wasn’t an immediate answer. Ashley’s indicator said she was typing a few times, but then stopped. Finally, her reply came.

You worry too much.

Reading it in her friend’s flippant tone, Morgan felt a small seed of doubt take root. First her father, and now Ashley was on her case. Yes, she practiced and re-practiced for every test, but that was why she usually aced them. Her notebooks were meticulously organized and color coded for every subject, and if she had the time she read every English book twice just in case she missed something the first time.

But… what if something did happen today? What if her father was right and it was the day when society as they knew it collapsed? Morgan would be stuck at school preparing for tests she already knew the answers to, and for what? She couldn’t afford college without sinking neck-deep in student loans. Sure, she could win some scholarships, but she wasn’t an athlete. There would be no free ride.

The enormity of the future swum up in front of her, a black hole of uncertainties. Sometimes, it felt like it would swallow her whole. 

Whatever, she typed back to Ashley. Yup. She was burning all the bridges today.

That done, Morgan did what always made her feel better when life became overwhelming: She sought out a bit of organization and control in the chaos.

Opening up her pocket spreadsheet program, she scrolled through columns of numbers she’d spent hours curating. Over the last few months, she had created a budgeting plan complete with formulas for an estimated cost of living over most of the major cities in the US.

Her best bet was to go to a community college for the next couple years, then transfer somewhere else. But that didn’t mean she had to stay local. Out-of-state tuition was more pricey, but that was an expense she could live with. Especially if it got her away from her father.

California. What would she need to be able to live in San Francisco?

Opening Craigslist, she scrolled through a few of the housing ads and saw with a sinking feeling that, no, there was no way she could live there. Not even in an apartment crammed with other roommates.

If she sold a kidney, maybe…

“What are you looking at?”

Morgan glanced up at the male voice. As usual, her heart skipped a beat.

Lucas Dominguez had peeled off from his group of jock friends and stood nearby. She hadn’t noticed him approach.

The familiar mix of loss, attraction, betrayal, and something warm twisted in her chest. Morgan locked it away with the ease of practice and shrugged. “Not your chemistry homework.”

Lucas rolled his eyes and sat down in the seat Ashley usually took, bones so loose it was like he was flopping on a beanbag chair instead of a picnic table. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“Nope.” The day she figured out Lucas had been using her to do his homework had been when she realized her friend from childhood was gone, replaced by a jock dude-bro.

She hadn’t spoken to him for nearly an entire semester afterward, but somehow he weaseled his way back into her good graces. She let him, because despite everything, she had had a crush on him since sixth grade.

Puberty had been unfairly kind to Lucas. He had shot up a few inches the moment they set foot in high school, and never stopped. His dark hair swept away from his face, his mixed Asian, Latino heritage giving him unfairly beautiful dark eyes and tanned features. He was an all-star player, currently in varsity football and would probably be a baseball pitcher come spring.

Lucas was also totally unimpressed with her acid tone. Craning his neck over, he peered unashamedly at her phone. “I didn’t know you were in programming class.”

“It’s a spreadsheet for budgeting.”

He squinted at her, clearly half afraid to ask. “Is it an end of the world thing, or…?”

She half-snorted, rolling her eyes. Lucas knew what her father was like—he had even gone up to the cabin with her a few times when they were in grade school. That was before Lucas’s parents wised up and realized Morgan’s father had a screw or two loose.

One saving grace was that Lucas had never let slip about her bizarro homelife to his jock buddies. Ashely had, once or twice, but since they were far down on the high school totem pole, no one paid attention.

“No,” Morgan said. “It’s a ‘what the heck am I going to do after high school’ thing.”

His squint deepened. “I thought you’d at least go to state college. Aren’t you in honors everything?”

“Dad would have to submit his tax information for federal grants. That… isn’t going to happen.”

“Oh.”

Lucas could be a bonehead, especially when he was hanging out with his football buddies, but he never needed things explained to him. Plus, his mother was highly traditional, so he knew about problem parents. “Well, you can always do what I’m going to do. Join the Army. They’ll pay for your college after four years.”

She started to smile, then stopped, realizing he wasn’t joking. “Military? Really?”

He shrugged. “Thinking about it.”

“My dad would freak out.”

He smiled, showing white, even teeth that flashed against his tanned skin. “Who cares? You’ll be an adult next year. Cut the apron strings.”

“Oh, please. Who was it who was crying when you got a flat on your bicycle and would have been late for curfew—”

She would have gone on, but he covered her mouth with his hand. “Not so loud!”

Laughing, and sort of hating herself for it, she batted him away. “You were ten. _Everyone_ cries when they’re ten.”

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. Then he glanced back toward his football friends who had taken over two of the picnic tables across the cafeteria. They were laughing with a couple of the good-looking girls Morgan suspected were cheerleaders—her high school wasn’t like the stereotype Hollywood always showed. She didn’t know who was a cheerleader and who wasn’t. They ran in completely different circles, and either they were too busy to notice her or Morgan wasn’t nerdy enough to be a target of teasing.

Still, the reminder of his other friends was like a splash of cold water in her face. She looked hard at him. “What do you want, Lucas?”

“Ashely’s not here today. Come sit with me. You look… lonely.”

Morgan hadn’t felt lonely. Just busy. She glanced over again at the jocks, a couple of whom had noticed Lucas’s absence and were looking back curiously at her. She wondered if her hair was in disarray. She hadn’t brushed it since leaving the house.

“I should…” She almost said ‘study’ but she had done enough of that, hadn’t she? And she could ask her teachers any questions she still had over the next couple of classes. A little socializing wouldn’t kill her. Probably. “Fine,” she said, giving in.

Lucas stood, extending down a hand. Morgan gave him a look, then took it. His fingers were warm around hers.

She felt a low rumble through the soles of her shoes.

Her first thought was that someone must have dropped something heavy nearby. Maybe in the cafeteria kitchen.

But the low vibration didn’t taper off. It strengthened. She glanced around. “Do you feel that?” Was it a car crash? A far-off explosion?

Conversation died as people all through the cafeteria took note. Some frowned down at their feet as if expecting something to pop out of the ground.

“Is this an earthquake?” Lucas asked.

“In Ohio?” That wasn’t as far-fetched as it used to be with all the fracking operations springing up…

Squeezing his hand, Morgan ducked under the table, pulling him along. “If it is, we need to get under cover, quick!”

Most people were frozen in place, slack-jawed. If this was an earthquake, beams could start falling. Taking cover under a flimsy picnic table wasn’t the best, but it was better than out in the open. And if she was wrong… well. She could live with being teased for being an overreacting idiot.

Lucas didn’t laugh. He joined her, ducking so close their shoulders pressed together.

The earthquake or whatever wasn’t diminishing. In fact, the vibrations were growing stronger. How long had the San Francisco earthquake lasted? A minute? Two? She couldn’t remember. How long had it been already? It felt like forever, but realistically it had been probably less than twenty seconds. Adrenaline always seemed to stretch time.

Now other kids were starting to follow her lead and crouch under their own tables. One girl who had been hanging with the jocks broke off and crawled in beside Morgan and Lucas. “What’s happening?” she demanded. Her liquid brown eyes were wide and her normally dark skin had gone bloodless.

“It’s an earthquake.” Lucas had to raise his voice above the increasing panic and shouting around them. “It’ll be over in a minute.”

But Morgan wasn’t so sure anymore. There was a feeling growing along with the rumble, as if the air around them were thickening. She glanced out the nearest window. A fierce wind blew around the branches of the trees outside as if they were caught in a hurricane, but the sky was clear and blue. Was this a freak tornado? No, that was supposed to sound like an oncoming freight train, and all she could hear was…

… A deep hum. So low and bone-deep it was more like a force than sound. She pressed her hands over her ears and felt the noise deep in her jawbone.

Whatever this was, it was coming closer.

_What’s a nuclear detonation supposed to sound like?_

That thought made her shoot out from under the table, ignoring Lucas’s grab. “Where are you going?”

“Stay there!” she replied.

It was stupid to be near glass, which could shatter at any moment. But she had to see….

One of her father’s lessons came back to her. If the mushroom cloud is smaller than your extended thumb, and the wind was right, you might have a chance of escaping radiation fallout…

She saw nothing outside except for wind-whipped trees and cars that were bouncing on their suspensions way too hard for the deep rumble in the ground. Whatever was going on outside was harsher than what was happening inside, which didn’t make sense.

A sudden shadow, as if a cloud had passed over the sun. Only this was deeper, blacker; like the time she had witnessed a total solar eclipse.

Craning her head, Morgan spotted something moving into position above the roof. Huge and metallic.

The rumble cut off along with all the lights in the room, plunging them into sudden night darkness. People screamed.

Instinctually, Morgan backed away from the window. Her foot struck something soft. Her bug-out bag. With shaking fingers, she grabbed it and lifted the strap over her shoulder.

Lucas called her name, but she couldn’t make her mouth form words in reply.

It was the middle of the day, but the blackness in the room was absolute.

Then, the ceiling was ripped away as quick and swift as if an impossibly giant hand were tearing away a Band-Aid.

Half-shielding her eyes from raining bits of plaster, Morgan peered past where the roof should have been to the underbelly of a metallic, oval-shaped disk floating in midair directly above them.

She stared, mind blank with shock except for one thought.

_Crap. Dad wasn’t wrong. The stock market is going to tank the second people hear we’ve been invaded by aliens._

There was a bright flash of light. Then nothing.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Morgan woke to soft grass under her cheek and the sound of a babbling brook close by. It should have been calming, but the unfamiliarity sent alarm straight through her. She sat up with a gasp.

Then she stared for what felt like a full minute, though it had to be only seconds. She didn't understand, _couldn't_ understand, what her eyes were telling her.

The school was gone. Vanished as if it had never been there. Morgan was in the middle of a green, grassy field, an idyllic stream a few feet away. Above her stretched a pitch-black sky full of stars. But they were stars like she'd never seen before, not even out in the wilderness. The sky was absolutely crusted with points of light, more vivid and numerous than she had ever imagined.

Despite the fact it was night, the landscape around her was lit as bright as day, though there was no obvious light source.

The nearby brook wound through the grassy field a football field's length or so, then dropped off into absolutely nothing. As if she was on the edge of the Earth, and the land ended where it met the starry sky.

_Oh God_ , she thought half hysterically. _The flat Earthers were actually right?_ She had been to enough survivalist meet-ups to come across that brand of crazy more than once.

Other girls were waking around her, groggy and confused. One screamed. Morgan whipped around.

It was the pretty girl who had hidden with her and Lucas under the table. Her name was Timberly, she remembered. Shorter than Morgan, she was one of those girls who could turn a guy’s head without trying. Petite, but curvy.

Right now, Timberly wasn’t pretty. She was terrified. One of Timberly’s hands covered her own mouth in horror, the other pointed behind Morgan, beyond the field, where...

…Where the curve of the Earth (spherical, thank you very much) was rising up on the horizon like an overly large, blue and white super-moon. Forget the stars. The oceans were the most brilliant, beautiful blue Morgan had ever seen. The white clouds looked more clean and pure than the brightest snow.

Then, like two puzzle pieces clicking together, Morgan understood. "We're in space.” She looked up, taking in the dazzling, impossibly bright stars again. Now that she was more alert, she noted the thick bubble of glass that stretched up above them in all directions and extended to the edge of the grassy field. They were encased in a dome. “Oh my God, we’re on a spaceship.”

The field and grass must be on the top side of a dome. She had seen the metallic underside when the roof of the school had been ripped off.

Timberly's scream had woken the rest of the girls. Blinking, taking in the same impossible scene, they began calling out in confusion.

"What the hell is this?"

"Is that Earth?"

"Where are we?"

"My cell phone isn't working."

Her phone. Morgan snapped her mouth shut—she had been too busy gaping at the Earth to _think—_ and dug in her pocket for her own phone, though she knew there was little hope. Cell phones had a range of, what, three to five miles? Maybe up to twenty miles in extreme cases? She wasn't certain but had the feeling cell phone towers didn’t point their receivers up into the air.

She tried anyway, and came back with no signal.

Sometimes a cell phone could squeeze out a text with low signal. She typed: I love you to her sister's phone and pressed send.

She didn’t ask for help, didn't describe her situation. What would be the point? A deep part of her had already accepted that she was beyond any help the people way down, down below on Earth could give.

Morgan couldn’t tell if the text had gone through. The little icon indicated the phone was searching for a signal.

_It's gonna run down my battery_ , she thought, then had to cover her mouth over a half-hysterical laugh.

Some of the girls had run to the edge of the field where glass met grass to gaze down on the Earth. They waved and yelled at it like they expected someone to hear them and throw an impossibly long lifeline up.

In fact, all the people around her were girls. Where were the boys? Where was Lucas?

Standing on wobbly legs, Morgan took a carefully measured look around. She found the boys quickly. They were grouped together some way off on the other side of a thick pane of glass that cut the field in half.

Like the girls, most were gathered at the edge to watch the rising Earth. Others were talking while some simply stared up at the sky in wonder. Lucas was one of those. He didn’t look hurt. Morgan’s heart unclenched, just a little.

_I’m not bleeding. No one else looks injured. That’s a positive._

"I think we’re in some kind of a science experiment," Timberly said as he came to stand next to Morgan.

Morgan turned to her. "What do you mean?"

"They've separated us by sex. Males on that side,” she waved toward the other end of the field, “females on the other. I had to do the same when I did a presentation on mice in mazes for the science fair. Because... you know, I didn't want baby mice."

“ _They_ separated us?” It felt like a cold wind had blown over her, though the blades of grass hadn’t so much as wavered. Morgan hugged herself, looking out over the bright starry sky.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Timberly gave her a pitying look. “I don’t think NASA has enough funding to pull this.”

Morgan wanted to disagree. Aliens didn’t exist! Except… well. It was kinda hard to argue while in space aboard a freakin’ spaceship. Morgan swallowed down her automatic disbelief and nodded. "I didn’t see any little green or gray people. Did you?”

In fact, the only other feature around them, other than the brook and the separating plane of glass, was a large oak tree planted in the back corner of the field. Like a Zen garden with one lone feature to make it imperfect.

“No girl, I just woke up here.”

Timberly and Morgan seemed to shrug at the same time and walked across the field to the glass where most were gathered to stare at the vista of Earth.

Two girls were off to the side, weeping, and one was sitting down, rocking back and forth in a worrying fashion. Morgan heard her whimpering that they'd use up all the air in here and that she felt like she couldn't breathe already.

_Panic attack_ , she thought with sympathy. The girl’s friends were gathered around her in support. Hopefully, it would pass soon.

"Does anyone remember what happened?" someone asked. "I was in the bathroom and thought there was an earthquake."

"I think that was the spaceship above us," another replied, young enough to be a freshman. "I was in from PE and we saw it come out of the sky. We tried to run, but it was like my legs wouldn't work."

"I fainted."

"We all did."

"You guys," said a girl in Morgan's math class. Her voice rose to a high pitch. "There are no teachers. Where are the teachers?"

There was a pause as everyone looked around. Sure enough, all those on both sides of the dome were teenagers. freshmen though seniors. No cafeteria staff, no janitors, no one old enough to graduate.

"My dad's a vice principal,” said one girl who usually hung with the stoners. “Do you think he's okay?"

"He's fine," Timberly said soothingly.

Privately, Morgan had no idea if that was true, but she didn’t see any need to say it.

“I think that's China down there," a snotty junior named Nevaeh said, pointing. "Do you think we're going to pick up more passengers? There are a lot of people in China."

"No, we're moving away from the planet.”

The voice was quiet, but all attention focused on her. She was a girl Morgan noticed always seemed to wear the same overlarge jacket, her hair in a sloppy ponytail and glasses. Everything about her screamed nerd.

"How do you know that?" Morgan asked.

The nerd—Leah, wasn't it?—shrugged and bit her lower lip. "Because of that star." She pointed to a particularly bright one nearly straight above them. "It's Polaris. You know, the North Star. I've been keeping an eye on it. Five minutes ago, it was in relation to Japan, but now it's right above the Gobi Desert, don't you see? No way the Earth is moving that fast. So _we_ have to be the ones moving. And I think we're moving away."

Everyone stared at her as if she was speaking another language, but Morgan realized something else. "So… it's daylight over Asia right now, which means it's probably night in North America..."

"Ugh,” Timberly said in disgust, seeing where she was going. “How long were we asleep?"

"Explains why I have to pee," someone murmured.

"There's a tree over there,” her friend said. “I won't look."

More chatter broke out, but Morgan wasn’t paying attention.

_We're moving away,_ she thought, dazed. _Every second, I’m getting further away from everything I ever knew. Why is this happening?_

Leah glanced at her and offered a hesitant smile. "Morgan, right?"

"Yeah. Hey... how fast do you think we're going?"

Leah shook her head. "It only takes the International Space Station ninety minutes to orbit the Earth, but I think we’re moving away from the planet, not around it. So, faster than that, probably.“

"Yay, us," Timberly muttered.

"Oh my God, how do you even know that?" Christina asked, overhearing.She'd always gone for a goth vibe before, but now her dark make-up was smeared under her eyes from crying.

Leah blushed and looked down.

"Maybe she actually pays attention in class," Morgan snapped.

Christina rolled her eyes and turned away. Ignoring her, Morgan focused back on Leah. "Okay, so we're moving away from Earth pretty fast, but... it'll still take a long time to get anywhere, right?"

She wasn't into sci-fi stuff, but she remembered one of the Voyager probes finally getting out past the solar system recently, even though it had been launched over forty years ago.

This dome might be her new home for a long time.

Leah nodded. "Human beings, yeah. But these are…” She swallowed as if she couldn’t say the word and covered it with a shrug. “Who knows?" She looked down and her bottom lip wobbled. "I wanted to work for NASA. I wanted to go to space. Maybe a Mars colony… I didn't want it to be like this."

Before Morgan could do more than feel awkward, Timberly swooped in and laid her hand on Leah's shoulder with a smile. "But imagine how this will look on your college application. You've actually been to space."

Morgan made herself smile, too. It was better, maybe, to pretend everything was going to be all right for Leah's sake. And her own.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Someone poked Morgan's shoulder. “I think that boy is trying to get your attention."

Lucas stood at the glass barrier. Catching Morgan’s eye, he waved and knocked on the glass. The barrier was so thick (or maybe so alien) that she couldn't hear a thing.

Morgan rushed over. Lucas looked her up and down, relief on his face. He spoke, but there was no sound.

"What?" Morgan asked, holding a hand to her ear.

He mouthed the words in exaggeration. "Are... you... okay?"

Was she okay? What kind of question was that? Morgan started to nod, but then paused. A lump, unexpected and swift, grew in her throat. Would she ever see her father and her sister again?

Tears burned in the back of her eyes. She blinked them away furiously. Now was not the time.

She gave Lucas a thumbs-up in answer and tried to smile, though it came out wobbly.

He nodded and placed the flat of his hand on one side of the glass. She placed her hand on the other side and they stood there for a minute just looking at one another.

Someone must have called Lucas's name because he whipped his head around and called back. Then he glanced at Morgan and said something. It might have been, "Be careful."

_Yeah_ , she thought. _I might get kidnapped by aliens or something._

A ripple of noise from her own side of the dome caught her attention.

What looked like every backpack the student’s owned were piled haphazardly in the middle of the field. But… they hadn't been there a few moments ago. The backpacks hadn't been dropped from the sky or beamed in with a glittery Star Trek effect. They had just... appeared.

"My bag better not be crushed!" Neveah shrieked and marched over to pull her sky blue bag out from under the pile.

Frowning, Morgan glanced over to the boys' side. A similar pile had appeared there, and they were rushing forward to claim their things.

Did the aliens have some sort of beaming technology like in Star Trek? If so, was it on a timer, or were they being watched? She looked around but didn't see anything that looked like a camera. Just space and their personal glass bubble. Then again, there was no visible light source. How was it so bright in here?

Most of the girls hurried to claim their backpacks. Morgan wasn't the exception. Her black tactical bag stood out from the rest.

Timberly cocked an eyebrow at her. “Nice of the aliens to give us back our homework. I was almost done with Mr. Madison's history report." She bent to pluck out both her bag and a separate make-up kit.

_Why is she hanging around me all of a sudden?_ Morgan wondered, but shook her head. Timberly had never been rude to her, but they never exactly interacted, either. “I think they’re watching us. They gave us back our stuff when we'd gotten over the worst of the shock.”

"Who are these people?" Christina demanded stridently. She looked up at the sky and waved. "Hello? Who are you? What do you want from us?"

"We want to go home!" another girl yelled.

They might as well have been yelling to the empty sky.

"Maybe they're going to do experiments on us," one of the girls muttered.

Neveah laughed outright at the girl as if it were the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. "Maybe we're part of a breeding program and they want us to carry their alien babies."

Morgan wrinkled her nose. Some of the other girls looked sick. That one who was having a panic attack earlier went pale all over again.

"Well,” Morgan raised her voice. “They already know about us. At least enough to know what we breathe, and a little about our planet." She looked down at her feet meaningfully. "This grass might as well be from Earth, and I'm pretty sure that's an oak tree over there. And they don't want us for breeding," she added dismissively. "Unless they expect the boys to put out, too."

"You don't know what they want," Neveah said.

"Neither do you," Morgan shot back.

"Hey, that's enough,” Timberly cut across between them. "Whatever's happening, we're all in this together. We shouldn't fight among each other."

Neveah sneered, "Whatever," and turned away with a couple of her friends.

Morgan didn’t care. Hefting her backpack on one shoulder, she turned away. To her surprise, both Timberly and Leah followed. Leah’s own backpack was simple and cheap with a patched hole in the corner.

“They know about us enough to figure out which of the backpacks are ours, and which are the boys,” Morgan said once they were far enough away that Neveah and Christina wouldn’t overhear.

Timberly drew her eyebrows together. “So?”

Leah got it. “So they’ve been studying us for a while. Or they’re not aliens at all.” Though she looked doubtful. “But I don’t think any other country has this type of technology.”

Timberly thought for a moment, then frowned and fixed Morgan with a look. “Spill, prepper-girl. What do you have in that pack of yours?”

Morgan froze. “What?”

“My dad owns the hardware shop on Broadway. We know all about your family.”

That explained why Timberly was being friendly all of a sudden. She probably thought she could get something from her. A part of Morgan relaxed. One mystery solved. “Nothing that will get us back to Earth,” she said. “Just some food and rations and stuff. I have a straw filter we can use to drink out of the stream—I don’t think it’s a good idea to just blindly trust the water.”

She had a lot more in the pack than that: A first-aid kit, fishing gear, a mylar sleeping bag, flint, and a multi-tool as well as other supplies she had spent years curating after countless drills.

“You brought that all to school? Did you know something was going to happen?” Leah asked.

“No, it was by accident. My father… He’s really into survivalist stuff.”

Timberly laughed. “Are you kidding? He practically keeps us in stock of all the prepper items. We had to special order heirloom seeds for his seed bank last year.”

“Well, I don’t have any of _that_ with me,” Morgan said, annoyed. It was one thing to secretly think her father was a kook, another to hear someone else say it. “Do you two have anything useful?”

Timberly held up her tiny backpack. It actually had glittery rhinestones sewn all over it. “Make-up. Tampons, too, in case of emergencies. That’s going to come in handy.”

Great. That was a major inconvenience she wasn’t looking forward to tackling. She looked at Leah. “How about you?”

“Just my books. My eReader. I tried sending an email, but it’s not getting any signal.”

At least Leah was thinking ahead. Morgan glanced again at the sea of stars above them, so vivid without an atmosphere. “Do you know how far away the closest solar system would be?”

“Alpha Centauri,” Leah answered promptly. “But it’s still stupid far away.” Though she looked briefly enthusiastic. “These… people, or _aliens_ , or whoever brought us here _have_ to have FTL—uh, faster than light travel. A wormhole or some sort of hyper speed technology.”

“Warp drive?” Morgan suggested with a smile.

Timberly looked between them. “You two are such geeks.”

Leah shrugged. “Just thinking aloud. But… even if we were to travel the speed of light, which you literally _can’t_ do, it would take us over four years to get to Alpha Centauri.”

" _Years_?" Timberly hissed. Now she was looking like she wanted to hyperventilate.

"You can't think like that. You’ll get overwhelmed,” Morgan said quickly. “I don't think these aliens or whatever brought us here to make us live in a dome. Whatever this is, we have to plan and prepare, but take it one day at a time."

"How?"

"First thing's first: Let's see if there's anything interesting about this field. A message or something we missed."

 

* * *

 

The only object of interest aside from the brook and the glass barrier was a large oak tree, which marked a slight downslope to the far side. The boys had a cedar tree on their side.

Morgan, Leah, and Timberly wandered over, looking up as if there were answers hidden in the branches. Except for the fact it was growing on a spaceship, it looked like a normal tree.

“What’s this?” Timberly pointed to a dark, rectangular patch on the trunk set about eye-level. Before Morgan could warn her, she brushed her fingers over it. “It’s a slot.”

There was a slight buzzing sound that sent the three girls back a step in surprise.

The dark slot flashed green, and a gray puck of _something_ spit out.

Carefully, Timberly pulled it out. It was about the size of her palm, a half inch thick. It looked like an overbaked, dry cake.

“I think it’s dehydrated food,” Morgan said, touching it and then sniffing the tip of her finger. There wasn’t a smell.

Carefully, she broke off a bit with her fingernail and tested it against her tongue.Waxy and bland. “Tastes like a protein bar.”

Leah waved her hand over the slot and a second grayish cake was promptly spit out.

“Wow,” Timberly said. “The aliens planted us a giving tree.”

There was no point hiding what they'd found from the rest of the girls. Soon, others were waving their hands over the trunk and receiving cakes of their own. There didn't seem to be a limit on how many would spit out of the “giving tree”.

They had all missed lunch, and a couple were hungry enough to bite straight into the cake.

Morgan's stomach rumbled, but she waited a while after the first girls had eaten theirs to make sure they suffered no ill-effects before she bit into her own. Yes, she had her own rations, but there was no point in using them up. Not when there was free food for the taking.

“The fact that they’re feeding us means that they mean us to stay,” she said to Timberly.

“Where ever 'here' is,” she agreed.

It wasn't long before the boys found their own giving tree on their side of the dome. Soon, all the teenagers were fed, if not happy.

Morgan wandered toward the back of the dome to stare out at the receding Earth. Like watching a pot of water boil, it was difficult to tell if there were any changes unless she looked away for a while.

Eventually, the moon came into sight. A sterile gray ball pot-marked by millions of years worth of craters. The sight was spectacular, but disheartening. The moon was growing larger while the Earth grew smaller. Leah was right: Their spaceship was leaving the orbit of the planet.

Every once in a while, she caught sight of flashes of metal in the atmosphere. Probably satellites or other space junk. No ships would be coming to rescue them. There wasn't a shuttle program anymore. Even then, Morgan wasn't sure how long it took to prep a mission, but she didn't think they could just send one on the fly… that was _if_ anyone even knew they were out here.

Sitting on an empty patch of grass, she pulled her knees up to her chin. The image of the Earth fractured and blurred as tears pooled in her eyes.

The last words she had spoken to her father had been in the heat of an argument. Would she ever see him or Emma again?

She wasn't the only one—or even the only girl—crying by themselves. Morgan still hid her face, ashamed of her weakness.

 

* * *

 

 

There wasn't any concept of night or day in a spaceship. Morgan slept for a few hours at a time, woken by arguments or someone walking nearby. She ate the giving tree cakes when she was hungry and drank from the stream. At first, she used her straw filter, but when no one else got sick, she returned it to her pack. Better save it.

She volunteered her tarp to the cause when it became evident there were no restrooms aboard the dome. The girls picked a low point near one of the outer walls away from the tree and the stream to do their business, burying what they could using a branch from the tree. The tarp was propped up for privacy with a couple more branches.

As far as Morgan could tell, the boys didn't have one designated place to go. Gross. And unsanitary. She was glad they each had their own brook.

"There they go again," Timberly said, half amused as she glanced over to the boys' side. A circle was forming around a pair who were shouting and shoving one another. This wasn’t the first fistfight they’d seen. Stress led to people getting on each other's nerves.

The girls weren’t immune, but they tended to form into catty cliques which did their best to subtly ignore and snipe at one another.

Case in point, Christina had accused Nevaeh of stealing eyeliner from her bag. Nevaeh’s response was to claim Christina had tried to steal her boyfriend at last week's party. Now their two groups of friends were busy ignoring each other, when one wasn’t accusing the other of backstabbing and sluttiness.

_At least Nevaeh and Christina haven’t tried to scratch each other’s eyes out, yet_ , Morgan thought as she eyed the boys' side. The two shoving idiots had come to blows and were now wrestling on the ground.

Lucas wasn't one of them. He was watching alongside his friend, Colton, the head jock. Colton pointed and said something that made Lucas and another boy, Max, laugh.

Without warning, the black starry sky above and around them came alive with jets of purple, blues, violets, deep reds and green. The colors crackled and shifted around the outside of the dome, like an aurora.

Some of the girls screamed, clutching each other.

Hunching in surprise, Morgan glanced toward the rear of the dome. Over the last few days, the Earth had receded to a blue dot the size of a quarter. Now it was lost among the violent, dancing colors.

Leah pointed almost dead ahead. "Do you see that? Is that what I think it is?"

Morgan squinted, and barely caught the outline of a round ball in space. It looked vaguely familiar. A dark planet? That sure as heck wasn't Mars.

"Is that a black hole?" Timberly asked.

"You can't see a black hole!" Leah snapped, impatient. "I think it's a wormhole. A 2D construct in three-dimensional space. It's a sphere!"

Timberly and Morgan exchanged a look. Sometimes it was like Leah was speaking another language. Then Timberly snapped her fingers. "Oh right, I saw that in a movie. Like, when the scientist pushes his pencil through the paper to create a shortcut."

Leah beamed. “Exactly.”

“What?” Morgan asked, but then shook her head. She didn’t want to know. “Uh, is it safe to go near a wormhole? We’re getting close."

"Who knows?" Half the people around them were terrified out of their minds, but Leah’s eyes were bright with discovery. "I wish my phone still had battery and I could take a picture. This is all theoretical. It’s a tunnel through space. Wormholes aren’t supposed to exist!"

“Then how do you know that’s what it is?” Morgan asked.

“It looks like we're going to crash right into it." Timberly tilted her head. "Or _through_ it. Whatever."

Morgan glanced again to the boys' side. The fight had broken up. Now everyone was staring in horror and fascination at the play of colors over the top of the dome. The former two combatants stood side-by-side, apparently forgetting whatever they'd been angry at each other about. That was one positive thing about the boys' way; Christina and Nevaeh still stood as far apart as possible. If they were going to die, it wasn't going to be together.

The colors shifted and swirled in a sickening kaleidoscope that grew faster and faster as they approached the dark sphere. No doubt about it, they were on a direct course for impact.

Morgan held her breath. The very edge of the dome touched the surface, and the entire ship gave a shuddering lurch.

Timberly grabbed onto Morgan, who reached to grab Leah. Together, propping each other up, they held steady.

The colors turned, expanded, and contracted in a sickening dance all around them. _Inside_ of them. Blending and colliding and rushing so fast she couldn’t tell if she were in a nightmare roller coaster or standing still while the universe bent around her. Morgan shut her eyes, but the colors were so vibrant they burned through her eyelids. Around her, more girls screamed. Timberly's nails bit into her arm, and Morgan suspected she was holding Leah’s wrist hard enough to cause bruises.

Then, just when it seemed like it was too much, like she was going to hurl at any second, it ended. They were back in normal space. The blank, dark sphere was behind them. And ahead…

It was easy to confuse the planet with Earth for a second. There were the same blue oceans, pure white clouds, ice caps on the north and south poles. But the triple moons were definitely new, as were the two bright suns—one yellow and one a darker, burnt orange.

"Oh my God," Leah whispered in awe. "Oh my God. It's a binary star system."

"Where are we?" someone yelled.

There were no answers, of course. But maybe those would come soon. Their dome spaceship was descending into the rich, blue atmosphere.

They were about to find out if they were alien cattle, slaves, or something worse.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter. I might post another mid-week.

**Part II**

 

One by one, the stars winked out as the dome sank into the alien atmosphere.

It seemed like a slow descent, but the edges of the ship were soon glowing a bright orange as if someone were using a blow torch. The entire vessel vibrated and shook.

Leah mumbled something about a heat shield. Morgan just hoped the aliens knew what they were doing, and they hadn't gone through all this just to burn up on the way down.

The sky above transitioned from black to deep violet, shading into pure blue. Soon, a vast continent stretched out below them. It seemed… oddly separated. The land was cleanly cut as if she were looking at boundary lines on a map. Different colors of green, brown, royal purple and glittering blue water gave the surface a quilt-like appearance.

_That’s not natural_ , Morgan thought, craning her head to look past the edge. Out in the far distance night darkened the curved edge of the planet. There, just for a moment, she caught a glitter of artificial lights. Cities? It sank out of view before she could tell for sure.

The dome sank straight down on top of a light green patch, separated with darker stripes which soon resolved into forests. The dome slowed, giving them a view of meadows broken by lines of trees.

They landed with a jolt that made Morgan fall into Leah. A deep click-whirr from below and two ramps extended out from either side of the dome. One for the girl’s side, one for the boys.

Then the glass above them retracted like the cover of a football stadium.

Air rushed in, warm and sweet smelling with greenery and new life.

For a few minutes, all everyone could do was stare. There were no buildings in sight, no little green men to welcome them. Just soft green grass below them, the sigh of a light breeze and the buzz of insects.

The boys and girls hovered at the top of their ramps like penguins at the edge of an iceberg. No one wanted to be first out of the ship. There could be the alien equivalent of a leopard seal down there.

One of the boys, a large jock named Colton, gave a whoop and rushed down the ramp. No small steps for mankind for him. He leaped down and landed into knee-high grass.

He turned, grinning broadly up at them. "Come on! It's fine."

“That boy is crazy,” Timberly muttered, though there was awe in her voice.

Soon, other boys followed Colton’s example. The girls, too, made tentative steps down the ramp.

"I'm grabbing my backpack, first," Morgan said to her friends. Timberly and Leah followed.

Within a few minutes, they were all marching down the ramp and out to the field.

Without a glass barrier to separate them, the boys and girls mingled. Boyfriends and girlfriends embraced and kissed, siblings hugged.

Lucas met Morgan down at the end of the ramp, having followed Colton's example. He greeted her with a hug that took her by surprise. She hugged back, closing her eyes. His encircling arms were strong, and he smelled like home.

Too soon, Lucas broke off from her and gave Timberly a hug, too. Though it was shorter, more perfunctory.Introductions were made to introduce Leah.

"Did you guys see the boxes and crates past the trees?" Lucas asked.

“No,” Morgan said. “What boxes?"

"Over there. I guess we spotted it because it was closer to our side of the dome." Lucas waved toward the western side of the field, beyond which sat a line of leafy trees.

Sure enough, Colton was ushering people to get moving. Those who had forgotten their backpacks inside the dome rushed back up the ramp to retrieve them.

Standing aways up the ramp, Colton cupped his hands around his mouth and called. “Boxes and cargo crates that way! Everyone, stick together!”

No one else had a better idea. Soon the group as a whole—just over five-hundred kids—headed across the field. The grass was thigh high with heavy seed stems. Morgan didn't spot any burs or stickers, and no thorns pierced her socks. In fact, she could have sworn these were either wheat or barley stalks. What in the world was an Earth crop doing on another planet?

"Ohh," Neveah cooed, pointing. "Look! A fawn!"

A whole herd of white-tailed deer grazed at the edge of the meadow. The animals picked up their heads at the noisy kids and casually walked into the trees.

One of the boys next to Colton shot at it with pretend finger guns.

"This is so weird," Leah said. "This isn't like Earth. It practically _is_ Earth."

“Can’t be natural,” Morgan agreed, looking up at the blue sky. Just like a perfect summer day. “Why did the aliens go to this much trouble?”

"I want to know what they want in repayment," Timberly muttered.

A distant clanking sound from the dome made everyone stop. The ramps were retracting back, the glass sliding into place again. Blue light lit from the underside, and the whole thing lifted from the ground. It ascended straight up into the air without fanfare or explanation.

Silently, they watched it go. Their last link to Earth disappeared into the sky.

 

* * *

 

 

The crates were easy to spot through the trees, seeing as they were bright orange. Beyond those, sitting in the middle of an open field were large rectangular metal shipping containers. A few had doors half open, as if whoever (or _whatever_ ) had left it there wanted to give them the idea there was something worthwhile inside.

Morgan wasn’t the first to approach. She took her time, moving cautiously, examining every foot in front of her for a booby trap. The catch. The explanation. Someone to leap out and yell, "Gotcha!"

There was nothing. Carefully, she peeked into an open container.

"What did they do?" Timberly muttered. "Suck up the whole contents of a hardware store? Were we brought here by alien shoplifters?"

"Actually..." Morgan held up a brand new orange bucket with a Home Depot logo on it. "This whole container is filled with hand tools."

The entire field was littered with crates and shipping containers. Paint, stacks of wood, nails, PVC piping, electrical and duct tape... it was all there right for the picking. People wandered in and out, lifting and setting down items. Someone yelled from the other side of the field that they'd found solar panels.

"I feel like I keep saying this, but I don't understand," Leah muttered. "What's all this for?"

"For... us,” Morgan said slowly as if testing the word. "Did you guys notice the trees we walked through?"

Lucas turned from examining a few cans of spray paint. "What about them? More cake trees?"

"Cake trees…? Oh." For the first time all day, she smiled. "We called ours a Giving Tree. But no,you didn't notice? Those were fruit trees. In a few months we're going to have a lot of cherries. I'm pretty sure the grass is actually wheat or something, too.”

"That reminds me." Grabbing Morgan's wrist, Lucas tugged her to the side. “You need to talk to Colton."

"Why?"

Lucas didn't answer right away, just hailed his fellow jock. "Bro! Hey! This is the girl I was telling you about."

Colton, who had one muscled arm slung over Neaveh’s shoulders, turned and grinned at Lucas. "The doomsday chick?"

"Lucas!" Morgan hissed, yanking her hand out of his grip. He knew how she felt about her father.

"Relax, it's okay. He thinks it's cool."

"More than that, it's needed." Colton joined them. Though they had shared an Earth science class together, his clear blue eyes ran up and down Morgan as if seeing her for the first time. He smiled at Timberly and gave her a casual hug in greeting. Leah was completely ignored.

"I thought for sure we'd be fighting for our lives when we landed. Still might be." Colton shrugged. "I don't think the aliens are just giving us this stuff for free, you know?"

"I thought we'd be alien sex slaves," Nevaeh giggled.

Colton gave her a look that was half amused, half annoyed. “Anyway, I think most of us have camped before, but Lucas said your dad prepared for stuff like this."

Morgan crossed her arms over her chest, irritated and embarrassed. “Not for being dropped on an alien planet."

"It's not alien at all," Leah piped up. "They went to great lengths to do all this for us. Those fruit trees we walked through take decades to mature. And all of this," she raised her hand to indicate the hardware. “This was planned.”

Colton’s gaze swept consideringly over Leah as if just now noticing her. He nodded then turned his attention back to Morgan. “So, pretend it's doomsday. The super flu killed off the population or whatever. What would you do first?"

"Bug out of a large city."

Colton smiled, showing white, even teeth. "Done. And then?"

Morgan took a breath and let out it slowly, thinking. "Water, shelter, and food. In that order."

"Um, why not food, water and _then_ shelter?" Nevaeh asked.

"Because most people can go a couple weeks without eating. It's not fun. Not safe if you have medical issues, but food isn’t the first priority,” Morgan said promptly. “But you go maybe a day and a half before you're really suffering without water. Three days, and you're dead."

"There's trees.” Lucas hooked his thumb behind him. “That means there's a water source around here somewhere."

“Yeah, but it has to be a _safe_ form of water. Avoid stagnant pools or puddles. A running stream is best. Even then, that’s not a guarantee it’s not free of pathogens or parasites.” She was starting to ramble—worse, she sounded like her father. She could practically hear his voice in her words. Snapping her mouth shut, she covered her embarrassment by digging in her backpack and pulling out her straw filter."This is a water filter. As long as there's no chemicals, you can suck fresh water through here and make it safe to drink."

"That won't work for everyone,” Colton said. “How many do you have?"

She hesitated for a split second. “Just this one,” she lied.

Colton nodded. "Keep it tucked away. We can boil water."

"Which means we need pots and pans. And fire." Again, she dug in her pack. "I have a flint, so as long as we have wood, we're okay. Then we only need the pots and pans."

"Awesome,” Lucas said in approval. “We can make pots and pans out of something here, easy.”

"So, what about shelter?" Timberly asked, looking at Colton as if he were the one in charge.

"We have wood, and hammers and nails. That shouldn't be hard."

_Says the guy who's probably never built anything more than a tree house in his life_ , Morgan thought. “Starting a campfire is probably a good idea. It could help scare away predators."

"We don't know what kind of night we'll have. Will the sun— _suns_ even set?" Leah asked. “This is a binary sun system, remember?"

Everyone looked at Morgan expectantly. It was so weird. She usually did everything she could to hide this part of herself. It felt like to have the two halves of her lives combining into one, and she wasn't sure that she liked it.

"Shelter's the first priority. We have clear skies now, but that could change.

"There's a lot of people here," Colton said, but not like he was arguing with her. Just thinking aloud. "We could dump some of the stuff that doesn't mind getting wet out of the shipping containers and use those to sleep in.”

"Put it all under tarp," Morgan looked around. Colton was right: There were a lot of idle hands around. Most everyone was busily exploring the shipping containers, or chatting in tight, anxious circles of friends. If they noticed what Colton and his group were doing, they’d probably copy his idea. Good. The more people under shelter by tonight, the better.

“We need an inventory list,” Timberly added with a smile that showed teeth. She pretended to flip her hair back over her shoulder. “Luckily, I know all about hardware from working in my family's store. I know what we should save and what we should toss.”

Which meant anyone hanging out with Timberly would have first pick of whatever was most useful in that container. Morgan firmly quashed a niggle of guilt that came along with her assessment. This was a survival situation.

"I'll go out and look for water, maybe food if I can spot it,” Morgan said. “Or more Giving Trees."

“Giving what?" Colton asked.

"That's what the girls called those trees in the corner of the dome that dispensed those cake-things," Lucas said.

And even if people could survive for weeks without food, no one would be happy about it. There would be fights over whatever someone managed to scrounge up. Morgan had her M.R.E.s in her tactical bag, but that wouldn't be enough to feed five hundred other people.

And her personal handgun, a Glock G43, was locked up in the safe at home—literally millions of miles away. She had no way to take others from taking what was hers. Not without strong friends to back her up.

_Looks like I’m stuck hanging with the jocks for awhile._

Colton turned, cupped his hands over his mouth again, and called out that they needed to empty some of the cargo containers and build shelters.

Most people looked on as if wondering who had put him in charge. A few, though, peeled off from wandering or chatting to gather around him, listening for directions. It was a start.

Morgan turned away back to the line of trees. Lucas fell into step beside her, flashing a grin."Want some help?"

Suddenly, Morgan was aware she hadn't taken a shower since leaving Earth. She pushed her hair back, wincing at the greasy feel under her fingers. It was almost a relief there weren't any mirrors around. She didn't want to know for sure how bad she looked.

Then again, most of the guys weren’t looking better. Lucas had a patchy shadow dotting his chin. It didn't make him look bad. In fact, he looked older. Rugged.

He raised his eyebrow at her, noticing she was staring.

Quickly, Morgan looked away. “Do you know anything about foraging?"

"Only what I picked up from camping with your family."

"You were ten. That's not a huge help."

He shrugged. "Then I'll be your pack mule."

He really _did_ want to come with her. Morgan ducked her head to hide a smile. Then she glanced behind her. More people were circling around Colton, attracted by others who were listening. A few peeled off to the nearest storage containers to get to work. She was mildly impressed. Colton had a way with organizing people. That could be useful, too.

 

* * *

 

 

"I can't stop worrying about my parents," Lucas admitted once they had traveled out of easy ear shot. "I hope they're okay—that they're not freaking out too much right now."

That dampened her rising mood. “I can't... I don't really want to think about my father and sister," Morgan admitted. "Every time I do, I fall apart a little on the inside. They'd just want me to survive and be strong, you know?"

One thing about Lucas: he took a hint and fell silent

Before long, they crossed the field and come back to the stand of trees. Morgan took a closer look: These were definitely cherry trees with green fruits ripening on the branches. They wouldn't be ready for months yet.

Lucas pointed. "Those are walnut trees a little way ahead. I remember the leaves."

“Here’s apple," Morgan said, indicating another nearby. Glancing at the undergrowth, she frowned then knelt down to examine a patch of green. "And this is miners lettuce." She pulled up the delicate, vine-like plant with an umbrella shaped leaf. Popping it into her mouth, she chewed. Green and sharp.

“These look like fruits, too. What do you think?” Lucas pointed to a plant along the ground.

“Those are wild strawberries." She pushed the leaf aside to show the beginnings of the green fruit. Then she stood, wiping her hands off on her pants. "I haven't seen one plant so far that we technically _can't_ eat."

He pointed. “What about those? They're oak trees, right?"

“Yeah, oak. But people have been eating acorns for thousands of years. It's like..." She trailed off for a moment, frowning. "It's like this whole forest was planted just for us."

“So, we're in alien Eden? Why are you saying it like it's a bad thing?" Lucas asked.

Morgan shook her head. "I just don't get it. Are we about to be fattened up like cows or something?"

"Maybe." He barked a laugh. "I keep thinking of Watership down."

"The... rabbit book?"

He shrugged, scratching the back of his head, a fine blush coloring his cheeks. It was a little cute. Morgan remembered how Lucas’s backpack used to be weighted down to bursting with books when they were in grade school. Those had all but disappeared once they got into middle school, and Lucas became good at sports—and making other, cooler friends. “There's one part were the rabbits visit a new warren. Everyone's healthy and huge, and they eat carrots and lettuce the farmer sets out for them every morning. The catch is no one is allowed to question why everything's so great. It turns out the farmer traps some of the rabbits every once in awhile on their way to get more food. So the moral—”

"There's no such thing as a free lunch.” Morgan sighed and looked around. "But if they are feeding us up, there's not a lot we can do about it."

"Fruit and nuts are nice but I'm going to be missing carbs in a few days."

"Not if we can't figure out a way to grind the wheat," Morgan said, then increased her pace as she found the one thing she'd been secretly hunting for.

There was an old walnut tree up ahead, surrounded by a dense fall of leaves and a round, circular knot at the base. It made the tree distinctive enough to remember. Morgan unslung her backpack, then paused, looking at Lucas. "I know you were trying to do the right thing by telling Colton about me, but you _have_ to keep this a secret, okay?"

"Keep what—" Lucas started. Then his eyes widened as she unzipped the backpack and took out her stashed MRE's. Brushing aside the thick leaves, she hid them at the very base of the tree. The thick foil wrapping should keep out mice and rats, but she would check it every once in awhile just to make sure. Then, with a second thought she put her second straw filter, still safe in the package, along with another flint.

"Just in case," Morgan said, covering the pile with loose leaves.

"In case of what?"

She looked at him. "In case we need to bug out."

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a little trouble deciding where to cut this chapter as this section ran long with a LOT of inter-personal stuff happening between the characters. I'll update again midweek.

Morgan and Lucas crossed back through the field that they had landed in. The dome ship was long gone, but it had made an impressive dent in the tall grass.

The next stand of trees were also fruit and nut, but it was as if time had advanced here because some of the apples looked ripe enough to eat. The purple plums were definitely good. Morgan plucked one from a low-hanging branch and bit down, savoring the tart juicy meat.

Beyond that was yet another field, and finally a wide stream. Patches of cattails grew along both banks, the roots of which were starchy like potatoes. Morgan had heard that the fluffy seed portion could also be eaten, but she couldn't remember how it was supposed to be cooked. Why hadn’t she packed an eatable plant guide in her bug-out bag?

Because it was in the mountain cabin, and that's where she had always planned to go if things got rough. That had been a mistake. If she lived through this, and somehow got home, she promised she would take survival planning seriously.

"Holy Hell, look at the size of these fish!" Lucas exclaimed, pointing.

What she had taken for shadows in the water were actually lazily moving fish. Lucas picked up a flat river stone and tossed it in to see them scatter to different areas of the stream. Frogs plopped into the water at their approach (eatable), and bugs danced over the surface (probably eatable, but most likely there to feed the fish and frogs).

The stream itself was crystal clear down to the gravel. Morgan dipped her hands in and washed her face. It was cool and refreshing and reminded her that she hadn't taken a bath or shower in days. If Lucas hadn't been there, she would have taken off her clothes and gone for a swim.

Lucas must have been thinking along the same lines. He grinned at her and yelled, "Cannon ball!" Then, with a leap he tucked his legs under and jumped in, creating a huge splash.

"Lucas!" Morgan shrieked, half laughing as the stupid boy popped up to the surface and grinned at her. "C'mon, Morgan! The water's fine!"

She, at least, had the good sense to take off her shoes before she waded in. Curious fish bumped at her legs, more numerous than she was used to and apparently unsure of what this human creature was. The water was as cold as if it were snowmelt, though there were no mountains in sight.

Her analytical thoughts were driven right out of her head as Lucas dunked her under.

After that, it was _on_.

For a few minutes, they both might as well have been ten years old again, laughing and splashing one another. Morgan no longer had size or reach over Lucas, but she managed to trip him up by swimming under and hooking his leg.

Soon, the cold water got to them. They flopped back up on a flat, sun-warmed rock, staring up at the blue, blue sky.

_I should say something_ , she thought, but wasn't sure what. _Maybe, what happened to us?_ But she knew. Lucas had realized what a freak she was and found cooler friends. It happened.

They said nothing.

Lucas's fingers tangled with her own and they lay there, warming up again.

* * *

Eventually, they had to get up. The first sun had risen to high noon, and now the second, oranger sun was rising over the horizon as well. It was getting really hot, and super bright.

Besides, everyone should be told where the stream was.

Morgan did show Lucas how to dig up cattail roots, so they would have something to show the others on the way back. They also came across an orange tree heavy with ripe fruit. They filled her backpack to the brim, along with her water container. It wouldn't be enough for everyone, but hopefully some people would share.

While recrossing the field where they had landed, something metallic caught Morgan's eye. She grabbed Lucas' shoulder, stopping him. "What's that?"

He squinted. "Piece of the ship fell off, maybe?"

Exchanging a look, they cautiously moved forward. It wasn't a piece of the ship. Standing waist high was a metallic cylinder with a very familiar looking port.

"It's a… cake machine, maybe?" Lucas said and waved his hand over it. As with the Giving Tree, the cylinder spat out a waxy cake about half the size and width than what they had been given in the dome.

“Maybe in case we're too stupid to figure out how to forage for ourselves?" Morgan shrugged and broke off a piece to pop in her mouth. Yup, it was the same tasteless stuff as in the dome. Yuck. She would much rather eat the oranges and cattail roots.

"They definitely want to keep us alive," Lucas said, though there was doubt heavy in his voice.

Morgan looked at him. "Why doesn't that make me feel warm and fuzzy inside?"

* * *

There had been a definite change by the time they got back to the main group. Several of the cargo containers had been unloaded, the supplies covered with a tarp. Most of the boys had stripped themselves of their shirts under the hot suns. A few of the bolder girls rolled up their own to hook under their bras.

A smile spread across Lucas' face at the sight of the girls. Glancing at him, Morgan tried not to blush.

Her clothes were still damp from the water, but the two suns did make it hot outside. _It might be cooler if I did that... if I don’t care about from sunburn_ , she thought.

Most people looked hot and sweaty from carrying supplies out of the cargo containers, and sharp eyes spotted the oranges right away. By the time Morgan and Lucas made it to where Colton and the others were sitting in the shade of their own container, they'd attracted a lot of notice.

"We found a stream," Lucas announced, lobbing an orange to Colton, who caught it. "And a few ripe fruit trees. Fish, too."

Colton grinned and raised his orange in a salute. "You think the water's good to drink, Morgan?"

"It's running and doesn’t look scummy. I still think we should boil it before drinking." Diving right in was dumb, in hindsight. It wasn’t like she had swam with her mouth open, but she could have still ingested some. No help for it now. "There's also a weird alien cylinder thing in the middle of the next field. It spits out more cakes, just like the trees did in the dome."

"Good. How far away is the stream?"

"Two fields over directly to the east."

Colton nodded and snapped his fingers at two of his friends. “Max, Tyreese. Why don’t you get us some more fruit?”

To her surprise, the two lumbered off—Timberly trailing behind Max, probably wanting to identify where the ripe trees were, herself.

Colton sat back, looking content to watch people clear out boxes under his direction. Lucas grabbed a nearby box and started idly sorting through hammers and drills which were still in their blister packs.

Uncomfortable with just sitting around, Morgan rose to her feet to help clear out the nearest container. If they could get it empty enough, it wouldn’t be a bad place to sleep.

She looked back once or twice and caught Colton directing people one way or another. Lucas sat next to his friend, reinforcing his orders when needed. A shiver crawled up her spine, and she wasn’t sure why.

 

* * * 

A few weeks later

* * * 

_Give a man a fish, he’ll eat for a day. Give a man a mountain of tools and fields of orchards, he’ll create an Moonshine still,_ Morgan thought.

It was all Derrick “Donuts” Wilson’s idea. Back at school, Donuts had been one of the stoners. Morgan knew him mostly in their AP world history class. He obviously had some kind of brain because within days of landing he’d arranged buckets, tubing and parts from one of the concrete mixers (they had no concrete, but three mixers. Thanks, aliens.) and started experimenting with fruit fermentation.

He called it “Prison wine on Planet X”. Morgan called it a gigantic waste of time.

She was in the minority. Everyone else was thrilled.

Soon, Donuts had more people offering to help than he could use, and the sweet, syrupy smell of cooking fruit and sugar water was always thick in the air around the village.

Sighing, Morgan hefted the rabbit she managed to snare overnight over her shoulder and walked in.

The cargo crate field had changed in the last few weeks. Everyone slept in-now empty containers at night. The supplies were spread all over the place, except for a few nailed together pieces of wood.

Every few days, someone would brag they were going to build a house. Their ambition usually lasted until the suns rose and it got too hot to continue. Then their project was abandoned and whoever became inspired next wanted to start from scratch.

It was a waste of resources. It wasn’t like there was a sawmill around to create new planks from logs.

Maybe people knew that if they did manage to create something, they wouldn’t be able to keep it. Colton and his group ended up with the best for themselves. Every time.

_And I’m part of the problem_ , she thought for the hundredth time.

Colton was smart enough to gather in anyone who was useful. Morgan was one such person, and hanging with his group meant she ate better and slept in a double-wide container with floors thick with wheat bundled up like rushes.

One of the girls, Jacquelyn, used to cosplay and knew all about sewing. Soon, she had garden twine tied around wheat bundles. Cattail fluff was stripped from the reed, where it fluffed out. This was pushed into bundles of what used to be people’s coats. Now they were as soft as pillows.

Jacquelyn even knew how to use the skins off the rabbits Morgan trapped, and already had projects planned for the hides of deer—if anyone could figure out how to bring one down without a gun or bows and arrows.

People smiled and waved at Morgan as she entered the field of cargo boxes—now called The Village— eyeing her snared rabbit. Well, they could go catch their own if they wanted one so badly.

A few had asked her about snares, but trap-making wasn’t as easy as it looked. Morgan had offered to teach, but no one had been that interested. Not when there was endless fishing, fruit and nuts on the vine, and vegetables ripe for the picking.

Some called this planet Eden. Morgan knew there was no such thing.

The first sun was halfway up the horizon, but most of Colton’s friends were still asleep. Morgan sat in front of the front door to their container and set to work gutting her catch. The entrails went into the fish-bait bucket, the thin hide set aside for Jacquelyn, and the meat and bones thrown into the ever-boiling stewpot. (Which used to be a metal bucket in another life.)

Alone, the rabbit wouldn’t enough for everyone in the group, which ranged from fifteen to twenty as people came and left, but the stew helped stretch the meat. The broth was a welcome change from a fruit diet.

Morgan poked at the water with a trowel they used as a cooking tool and realized there weren’t any vegetables in the stew at all. That was Nevaeh’s job, but she’d been… up last night with Colton. They’d been kinda loud about it.

The smell of cooking rabbit roused a few sleepers. Lucas wandered over, sleepy-eyed with his dark hair mussed. “Hey,” he said around a jaw-cracking yawn. “You’re up early.”

“It’s like eleven in the morning.”

He made a show of looking around. “I don’t see a clock around here.” Then he sat, bumping her shoulder in a friendly way. “What’s with the face?”

“I’m not making a face,” she grumped.

He stared at her, one eyebrow raised.

Okay, yes, she was totally making a face. “Nevaeh didn’t gather vegetables again, and I really wanted some onion in this soup. Some wild carrots, too. There's a patch growing a hundred feet from here. She could have easily done it.”

“If you want them so bad, why don’t you go do it?”

“Because I’m tired of doing her job.” Morgan poked morosely at the rabbit soup.

“Well,” Lucas said, leaning back. “She and Colton were a little busy last night. You might have noticed.”

She winced. “Do they have to do that where everyone can hear them?” It was weird enough sleeping with boys in the same “room”, practically sharing the same pillows. Lucas slept right by her side. She had woken up warm and comfortable, pressed up against him more mornings than not.

Listening to Colton and Nevaeh’s… intimate moments with Lucas a few inches away made her embarrassed and uncomfortable.

“I think they want us to hear them,” Lucas mused, then laughed aloud at the expression on Morgan’s face. “Maybe he’s trying to give the rest of us pointers?”

“I don’t think it’s funny,” she said but her scowl cracked a little. Lucas was sitting close enough all she would have to do was lean a little to be pressed against him again. Maybe he would even put his arm around her shoulders. The morning breeze was a little chilly.

Though she wanted to, she couldn’t make herself do it.

_I’m a total coward_ , she thought.

Soon, they were joined by the others. The rabbit had been boiling long enough to be fully cooked.

Colton dipped his bowl—which used to be a mixing cup— in. Blowing on it he took a sip. His expression darkened. “This tastes like ass.”

“You’d know,” muttered Max, Timberly’s boyfriend.

“No, seriously,” Colton said. “What’s wrong with the soup?”

“It’s just water and rabbit,” Morgan said. “No one gathered anything else to season the stew.”

Nevaeh shrugged at Colton’s look. “I didn’t feel like it. Make Jacquelyn do it. She never has to get the veggies.”

“Hey!” The girl yelped. She sat just on the outside of the ring around the fire. Like a lot of the outsiders, she usually got her portion after everyone was done with theirs. Morgan suspected she would be one of them, if she weren’t supplying the meat. “I’m the one sewing everything.”

“And now you can gather, too.” Nevaeh’s smile was bright, but her eyes were as hard as flint.

Lucas stood, smiling easily. “I can do it. We need carrots, onion, and what else? Garlic?”

“Deep dish pizza. Extra pepperoni,” Colton drawled. He always made the same joke, and as always most of the guys laughed around him.

Lucas flipped him off.

“I’ll help,” Morgan said even though she had promised herself she wouldn’t be doing Neveah’s chores. But, apparently being Colton’s little minx was a full-time job.

Standing, Morgan sent a glare around the group. “There had better be enough rabbit for me and Lucas when I get back.”

Some of the guys “Oohed” like she had said something challenging or unreasonable.

Colton, though, nodded. Morgan didn’t like him but she knew how to manage people. There would be plenty for them both when they returned.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised aliens in the summary, and they're coming soon. (Like, within the next couple chapters.) Gotta get a couple more things established first...

“Isn’t this how people go blind?” Morgan asked as she looked into her cup dubiously.

Her measuring cup she used to drink out of was filled halfway with a reddish brown liquid. There were bits of what she hoped was fruit coagulating at the bottom.

Timberly grinned at her. “Donuts has been self-experimenting the last few days. It’s fine.”

“He’s a stoner. His body is already used to toxins.”

“Oh my God, just drink up, you nerd.” Timberly pushed the cup to her lips, and Morgan had to grab it quick to regain control. It occurred to her that Timberly was already a little tipsy.

Going by the shouts and laughter in the camp, so was most everyone else.

Donuts had finally opened up his home brew still for business, and Colton had taken two of the fish Morgan had caught over to him to trade for a bucketful of the stuff. Others were bartering with picked ripe fruit, hoarded tools, and whatever else they could get their hands on. Soon, Donuts would be living like a king.

Maybe he wasn’t as dumb as Morgan thought he was.

Carefully, she took a sip. After being on a planet without processed sugar for six weeks, the condensed syrupy taste was like candy on her tongue. She barely noticed the alcohol aftertaste, though she felt it burn all the way down.

Coughing, Morgan tried to hand the cup back to Timberly who shook her head and lifted her own.

“Come on!” She grabbed Morgan’s wrist and dragged her to the middle of the village. “Party by the bonfire! Whoo!”

A middle place had been cleared out from the supplies and cargo containers. Someone had torn up the grass to provide a bare spot, stacked large rocks in a ring, and then added wood.

The nightly bonfire was born.

Those who weren’t part of a larger group, or just felt like mingling, roasted their catches or fruit-kabobs over the flames.

It was Colton’s idea, and it was a good one. It brought people together.

And now, apparently, it was a place to drink by.

Donuts’ swill got better after a few swallows. Morgan’s stomach was empty except for the apple she had for breakfast. The drink hit her hard.

Soon, she felt a little dizzy, but also lighter on her feet. Her cares dropped away.

It was nice.

Lucas had a drink of his own and sat next to her on a log by the bonfire.

As the suns set and darkness closed in, an impromptu dance broke out, with half the people clapping their hands or slapping the logs in rhythm.

Lucas dragged Morgan to her feet. He was a terrible dancer, not able to keep rhythm. She was even worse.

Morgan knew she looked like every bad stereotype of a white girl who couldn’t dance, but at that moment it was hilarious, not mortifying.

“You are _sooo_ sad,” Timberly exclaimed, taking pity on them and grabbing Morgan’s hand. “Like this!” And she moved her body in a sinuous motion that seemed too fluid to be real.

Morgan protested. “I can’t do that!”

“You have hips, don’t you?” Timberly reached out, hands on Morgan’s hips to guide her through the movement.

Soon, Morgan found some sort of a beat. It was actually fun. She glanced over her shoulder to see how Lucas was doing and found him staring, rapt.

Morgan faltered, but Timberly pulled her close. “No, keep going. You’ve got his attention. Now let his imagination run _wild_.” She made some sort of lithe, half-grinding motion. Morgan tried to copy her, but the creeping embarrassment was acting like a roadblock in her mind. Her limbs went jerky and robotic again. Not sexy at all. Just lame.

Smiling in apology, she retook her seat on the log and drank again as if she really had been thirsty the whole time. Someone had refilled her cup… or maybe she was actually drinking someone else's. Either way, she finished it.

She was feeling really floaty when Lucas sat next to her again. He grinned, eyes bright. “Guess we’ll never get a prom, but this is a good second place.”

It seemed like everyone had joined in on the fun. Someone threw few boards that had been haphazardly nailed together on the fire—part of a discarded construction project—sending flames and embers sky high.

Lucas grinned and whooped with the others.

 _What a waste_ , Morgan thought. It wasn’t like they could go to the store for more seasoned timber.

Her good mood drained away like someone had pulled a plug. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Huh?” Looping an arm around her shoulders, Lucas pulled her in close. With everyone yelling and whooping around the fire, it was hard to hear.

Morgan raised her voice. “We should be preparing for the winter. We’re all wasting time.”

To her surprise, Lucas rolled his eyes. “Can you let it go for one night?”

“What?”

“We don’t even know if there will be a winter here. It’s hot as hell during the day with two suns.”

“That's because probably summer!” Her throat felt thick and she wasn’t sure why. It was like all her emotions were closer to the surface than usual. Anxiety twisted her gut. “We don’t know what we’re facing, and all everyone wants to do is screw around—”

“What’s going on?” Timberly joined them, looking concerned. Then again, Morgan realized, she had gotten a little loud.

“Nothing,” Lucas said. “Her father’s got her all screwed up, seeing the apocalypse around the corner.”

“We were dropped on an alien planet!” Yup, her voice was shrill even to her own ears, but there was no help for it. The sense of panic was rising. “We’re burning our own supplies for this stupid party, and we don’t know what else is out there or why we’re here. You say it’s summer, but you don’t know that! This isn’t Earth. There might be a snowstorm tomorrow. You don’t know!”

“Okay.” Lucas took the cup from Morgan’s hands. “No more for you.”

“I’m not drunk!”

“She does have a point, about winter, I mean,” Timberly said. “I think Leah said she was tracking the stars to see if she could measure a… uh, planetary tilt. She can explain more about it. That’s probably where she is right now. I don’t see her around.”

Morgan stood, and then wobbled dangerously. She took a step to correct herself before she overbalanced. “I’m going to talk to her.”

“What? No, c’mon, Morgan. Stay for a bit,” Lucas said. “Nothing’s going to change tonight. We were having fun.”

“I wasn’t,” she lied.

“You’ve had more to drink than you realize. You’ll get hurt in the dark out there.” Standing, he put a hand on his arm to stop her.

She shook him off. “Don’t touch me!" Angry, hurtful words bubbled up before she could stop them, born of a half-buried thought. "You don't even care, do you? You don't care that we probably aren't going to go home again.”

"Morgan." She knew for a fact that Timberly had more to drink than her, but at that moment her dark gaze was serious. "Of course he cares. We all miss home. What do you think this is about?" She looked meaningfully toward the almost frantically dancing teenagers. "People just want to forget for awhile, you know?"

"Well, good for them," she snapped. "I'm going to do something _useful_."

Lucas's expression had darkened. “There's nothing wrong with having a good time.”

“This isn’t a good time. It’s stupidy!”

“You know what?” Lucas said, “You’ve always talked about how crazy and paranoid your father was, but you’re just like him. Yes, we’re somewhere new, but this place is great! Why can’t you see that?”

Her mouth dropped open. For a moment, words completely failed her. “Oh… screw you!” she snapped, and would have stomped off if she hadn’t stumbled a couple times, first.

Lucas seemed to regret his words. He reached for her. “Morgan, come back!”

“Leave me alone!” she yelled.

She walked away from the campfire into the cooling night, tears leaking down her cheeks.

 

* * *

 

She was two fields away before she remembered she originally wanted to talk to Leah. The introverted girl was probably avoiding the whole party scene.

Back toward the camp, she could hear the occasional shout and high laugh. The orange bonfire glowed through the trees, flaring up when someone threw something new onto it.

She hoped none of the embers would catch. The orchards would be less than useless if they burned.

Her shoulders sagged. _I really am incapable of having a good time._

Abruptly, she didn’t want to see anyone. Not even Leah.

She walked on, sniffling. Lucas could be a real jerk sometimes, but she wasn’t sure he had it wrong.

She hated it. Why couldn’t she let loose? Why couldn’t she let down her walls? Lucas wanted her, and she wanted him. So what was the problem? They could be… together.

… Except for the gnawing feeling that she wasn’t safe, that she shouldn’t let her guard down, that they were squandering time. Time they wouldn’t get back.

Morgan glanced up at the alien sky. It wasn’t like the night sky of Earth. For one, there wasn’t any light pollution. She could see a lot more. Also, the stars were more uniform, like a carpet of diamonds. There was no band of the Milky Way. A couple of the points of light were overly large and bright. Leah said they might be other planets in the solar system, or far-off moons. Impossible to tell without a telescope.

Maybe they were hovering spaceships.

That thought had her walking with more purpose back to the field where they landed. She had taken this walk so many times while going to the stream that she knew it by heart.

There, in the middle of the field, was the cylinder of the cake machine. The grass nearby wasn’t packed down—not many opted for the flavorless cakes when there was real food for the picking.

A soft blue electric glow came from the cylinder’s slot. The sight of electricity was comforting, in a way.

Morgan stared at it and saw only an alien device. “What do you want from us? Why are we here?”

Nothing.

Anger, sharp and painful, hit her. “I have a father and sister who need me, and I want to go back home to them! Please!”

She kicked it hard with the toe of her shoe. It was like kicking a light pole.

Kneeling, she brushed away soil from the base. The cylinder was sunk deep into the ground. She dug around it with her fingers until she could go no further without digging tools.

“What do you want from us?!”

No answer.

She was probably yelling at the alien equivalent to a vending machine.

Exhausted, her foot and the tips of her fingers sore, she sat, resting her back against the thing. It was warm. She brought her knees up to her chin.

In the distance, she could hear the others having fun. Let them.

* * *

“Morgan?” A hand shook her shoulder. “Morgan, wake up. Are you okay?”

She cracked open her eyes and instantly regretted it. The early dawn light seemed to drill straight through her eyes to the back of her skull. “Ugh.”

Lucas stood in front of her, looking concerned. “Did you sleep here all night?” he asked, helping her to sit up.

Then she remembered the bonfire, dancing with Lucas, what he said, the way she felt.

Yes, she had slept next to the alien cylinder, curled around it as if she had been waiting for it to spit out answers.

“So what if I slept here?” she grumped.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I thought I was ruining everyone’s good time.” Pushing his hands away, she stood to her feet. The world didn’t wobble, but her stomach was definitely not happy with her. Her head pounded, too. Was this a hang-over? Perfect. How strong had that drink been?

And why was Lucas looking at her with such a hangdog expression? “Look, I shouldn’t have said all that last night.”

Her stomach clenched, then roiled. Leaning against the cylinder, she took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.” He shifted to come into her line of sight. “I shouldn’t have been such an asshole to you.”

“No, you were right.” God, she did not want to have this conversation, but it took her thoughts off her rebelling stomach. Morgan forced herself to straighten. “I am like my father, but you know what? He was right, too _._ The world did come to an end for us.” Tears pricked behind her eyes. She hurriedly brushed them away. “So, if you want to have fun, fine. There are plenty of girls like that around here. Go take your pick.”

She didn’t expect him to take her hand in his.

“I like that about you. I like that you’re serious.”

She laughed.

“Well,” Lucas admitted with a smile, “you can be a pain.” He squeezed her hand. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”

“Really?” Lifting her head, she stared at him. Her voice came out a lot tinier and more fragile than she expected.

He nodded and she half-laughed again. Lucas pulled her into his arms and they stood like that for a few minutes, just hugging.

Sniffling, she pulled back. “I should wash in the stream. I’m a mess.”

“Okay. Just… just come back to the village when you’re ready, okay? Sleep it off there.”

She nodded.

* * *

When she returned after cleaning up, she suspected she might be the only one awake.

The village was dead quiet with the remains of the bonfire smoldering into cinders. Judging from the black marks, it had grown a few sizes larger than when she had left. She was half afraid to look at the timber pile and see how much had gone up in flames.

The sour smell in the air told her that someone—or maybe several someones—had thrown up. Gross.

Donuts’ still was bubbling over the fire near to his cargo container. It was half-full. No doubt Donuts would be slaving away over it again after last night’s success.

She walked over to the container where Colton’s group slept.

Lucas was there. He rolled over and smiled at her when she approached. She laid down gingerly in between Lucas and a girl laying a few feet away named Mallory.

Lucas murmured something and wrapped his arm around her waist. The weight of it was comforting.

Morgan closed her eyes and slept.

 

* * * 

 

Later on, Morgan would kick herself for not dumping Donuts’ still when she had a chance.

The bonfire became a nightly event.

It wasn’t that she had a thing against drinking—though the only time there had been alcohol in her father’s house was wine for the big holidays—but there was a difference between having a glass at dinner, and chugging homemade brew every night until you passed out, threw up, or both.

And of course after partying all night, no one got up again until late in the afternoon. People made dumb decisions when they were drunk, too.

One girl named Piper almost drowned when she dived into the stream during a night swim and hit her head on the bottom. Luckily, she had only been underwater for a minute and her boyfriend had known CPR.

Every night, more of the cut wood went up in flames.

“They’re burning the only seasoned wood we have,” she said to Colton in desperation one afternoon. “You have to stop them. They’ll listen to you.”

“Do you want them to go chopping down fruit trees, instead?” Colton asked.

“They can chop down those filbert trees,” Max muttered nearby. “I’m allergic.”

Morgan spun to him. “It’s not about you.” Then she turned to Colton. “I’m serious. We had enough to build a couple houses. Now… I’m not sure what we could do.”

“Maybe you should talk to Lucas about getting his woman in line,” Tyreese said, acting as if Morgan wasn’t even there.

“Knock it off, Tyreese,” Colton said before Morgan could.

Morgan glared at the jerk, but he wasn’t her problem right now. She glanced around, looking for Lucas, but he was out retrieving water from the stream with some of the others. The village was annoyingly far from the stream. The only reason they stayed there was because of the supplies and cargo crates.

 _A clean source of water is worth it's weight in gold_ , her father had told her too many times to count. _When the time comes, you find it, secure it, and defend it at all costs._

Gritting her teeth, she forced the thought of him from her mind. If her father were here, he would have already made his encampment by the steam miles away from the others, and to hell with the rest.

Well, she wasn't her father.

“There’s plenty of deadwood laying around,” Morgan said. “I don’t know why we couldn’t burn that instead of our only seasoned timber.”

“Most of the close-in stuff’s already been burned.” But Colton wasn’t arguing. He jerked his head toward the west side of the camp. “Follow me.”

“Why?”

“I want to show you something.”

Tyreese sniggered, which put Morgan on edge. Ignoring him, Colton rose, dusting off his pants.

“Fine.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she followed. “This better be good.”

Colton threw a grin over his shoulder. “You won’t be disappointed.”

By now, most of the cargo containers had been picked through. The ones with the lighter, or most useful stuff, had been emptied out and now doubled as sleeping rooms. Donuts and his gang was apparently turning one container of the village into a smokehouse.

Morgan had made a point in the first week to at least look through most of the containers for useful items. She’d added a compass and a boxcutter to her supplies as well as light-gauge wire she planned to use for fishing line.

However, she hadn’t come across a cargo container with a lock on it before.

“What’s this?” she asked wearily.

“People aren’t dogs,” Colton said. “I can’t just tell them to stop doing what they want and expect them to obey me.”

“I don’t think that works with dogs, either.”

“Okay.” He held up his hands. “You caught me. I’ve never had a dog. But still, the bonfire’s too much of a hit. I tell people to tone it down, and they’ll tell me to fuck off and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“So….” Morgan looked meaningfully at the container.

“So….” He repeated in her tone as he pulled out a small key from his pocket. He unlocked the padlock and opened the door with a flourish. “Me, Max, Tyreese and Calvin took the best of the wood.” He winked at her. “ _Those_ guys will listen to me.”

The spicy scent of seasoned lumber washed over Morgan as she peeked in. Planks were stacked neatly from floor to ceiling. The entire cargo container was full.

Drawing back, Morgan stared at him. “I’m… not sure how I feel about this,” she said honestly. “The supplies are meant for everyone.”

“That only works as long as there’s enough to go around.” Colton shrugged, closing the door. “And you said it yourself; the plebs are burning through what we have.”

She frowned, recrossing her arms. Colton wasn’t wrong, and she couldn’t honestly say this wasn’t a bad idea. It just felt… wrong.

Sometimes hard calls had to be made in a survival situation. That had been another one of her father’s lessons.

Looking back up at Colton, Morgan nodded. “Who else knows about this?”

“Just those guys, and now you.” Colton returned his key back to his pocket. “I figured you, of all people, know why I want to keep this quiet, but I didn’t want you to worry.” The corner of his lips edged up. “Do you feel better?”

Yes, but she also felt a bit dirty.

“Thanks for showing me this, Colton.”

“Any time.” He slung one arm over his shoulder as they walked back. It was a friendly gesture, and she didn’t think anything of it until he hastily dropped his arm as Nevaeh’s peel of laughter echoed back at them from their group’s campfire. She was sitting around, gossiping with her friends. No one with any sense risked getting on her bad side.

Luckily, Lucas was back, too. Morgan joined him by the fire.

“Where were you two?” Lucas asked with a sidelong glance Colton’s direction.

She debated telling him about the locked away wood, but the less people who knew—even Lucas—the better. “I was talking to him about the idiots at the bonfire.”

“Oh.” He rolled his eyes. The bonfire was still a little bit of a sore point between them. Thankfully, he didn’t ask further and she considered the matter dropped.

But the whole situation left a bad taste in her mouth. Seasoned wood was only the first resource the village was starting to run low on. Colton couldn’t lock everything away, and it was only a matter of time before more people found out. What would happen then?

Morgan had only gotten to know Colton since they were dumped here, but she had a feeling he had a plan for that, too.

Somehow, didn’t think it would be a plan she liked.


	6. Chapter 6

Morgan took in a deep, controlled breath, then let it out slowly.

Her shoulders ached from strain, but she held her pose with one arm parallel to the ground, elbow bent straight up with wrist hefting the spear.

Her spear was actually a re-purposed fence pole, which had been cut in half thanks to a butt-load of sawing. Using a file and two evening’s work, she had ground the tip to a sharp point.

Hopefully, it would be worth it.

There were plenty of fish in the stream, but they were flighty and movement scared them away. The creative use of sawed in half buckets made for a fish trap that could catch the smaller ones. Today, Morgan was hunting for one of the elusive monsters.

Finally, one drifted close to the bank. Morgan had to unfocus her eyes and search for the outline instead of the whole fish, as its speckled body blended perfectly with the rock and gravel.

She flexed her arm, aiming a little downward from where her eyes told her the fish actually lay. Water bent light. Another hard lesson she'd learned.

The modified fence post turned spear flew through the air with a trailing guideline of rope attached to a hole at the end. It struck the water exactly at the angle she’d aimed for. There was a dusky bloom of mud, then red.

“Yes!” Grabbing the line, she hauled her spear back. Something alive flopped weakly at the end. The fish was dead by the time she pulled it to the bank, impaled neatly through.

This was no trout or bluegill. This was a monster of a fish: At least three feet from nose to tail, it had a white head and a wide, gaping mouth. Not a catfish, but not native to North America, either.

She had noticed that more and more recently. Not all the foliage came from North America. One of the girls had identified a weird miniature palm tree as something that grew dragon fruit, and some of the creeping vines were kiwis. It seemed the aliens had planted samples from all over the world.

Wherever this species this fish was, it was going to supply enough meat to feed the entire group for a few days. It was too large for the bucket she’d brought, so she wrapped it in a tarp. Between this and the heavy spear, her arms were going to be sore. Worth it.

 _Colton’s eyes are going to pop out of his head_ , Morgan thought as she made her way across the last field to the landing camp. He had gotten into fishing recently, and kept saying the best way to catch one of the big ones was through fly-fishing. He—

A tingle of foreboding raised every hair on the back of her neck. It was like clouds had crossed over both suns at the same time, though the day was bright and clear.

Morgan stopped in place and looked around.

The waist-high wheat waved gently in a summer breeze. On Earth, there would have been sounds of insects buzzing, of birds twittering. There, there was none of that. Just the sigh of wind over grass and the creak of branches through trees.

And, even more distantly, panicked shouting.

Setting down the wrapped fish and the spear, Morgan bolted toward the village. She sprinted through the final stand of trees and looked around. It seemed the entire population of the village was out of their cargo boxes and stood in a wide circle.

A fight.

That wasn’t too uncommon—usually between boys who had a beef with one another—but it never attracted everyone's attention.

Panting, Morgan reached the circled crowd and pushed through. She was of average height for a girl, which put her pretty much at shoulder height of most of the boys. She couldn’t see what was going on. “Move! Let me through!”

Then she saw who was fighting, and why it attracted everyone’s attention.

Lucas and Colton were wrestling like bears in the middle of the circle.

Blood streamed from a cut above Lucas’s eye, and Colton’s shirt was dusty as if he had been thrown down once already. They had gone past the punching and shoving phase, and were trying to grapple each other down, spitting curses practically in each other’s faces.

“Stop! What are you doing? Stop it!” Morgan’s yells were swept up and lost in the general roar.

She had left Lucas sleeping only this morning. He and Colton were friends! What the hell was going on?

Morgan surged forward, her only thought to break the fight up.

Strong arms wrapped around her from behind and yanked her back.

“You don’t want to get in the middle of this, girl!” Max yelled, hauling her back.

Morgan twisted in his grip. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucas went down hard, hooked by Colton’s ankle. He fell to the dirt and Colton punched him right in the face.

Lightning fear tore through her. She writhed, nearly slipping free of Max’s grasp. “Lucas! Colton, stop it! Stop it! You’re hurting him!”

Then Timberly was there, her sharp nails like points of fire digging into Morgan’s arms. “Morgan, listen to me. You have to get out of here. Leah, help me.”

Together, the two girls and Max half dragged, half pushed Morgan out of the crowd. Twisting, Morgan caught a glimpse of Colton leaning back to stomp on Lucas while he was down.

“STOP IT!” Morgan’s throat hurt from the scream. “ _Stop it!_ ”

Even through her scream, she heard the snap of bone.

Morgan couldn't see Lucas, but caught a glimpse of Colton’s face turning stark white before the crowd closed in and her view was lost.

“In here,” Timberly said, pointing to a nearby cargo container. This one had been only half emptied, though judging by the piles of grasses and leaves, someone slept there at night.

“I gotta go back,” Max said. “Keep her in here and don’t come out until I return.” He gave Timberly a swift kiss before ducking out.

“What the actual hell—" Morgan started.

“That was close.” Leah pulled the heavy door closed, leaving it open a sliver for fresh air. “I don’t think she saw us.”

“Colton kicked him when he was down!” Morgan would have started for the door except for Leah’s tight grip on her shoulder. “What's going on? Why were Lucas and Colton fighting? They’re friends!”

Timberly and Leah exchanged a look.

“I told you she didn’t know,” Leah said.

Morgan sucked in a breath to snap at her, but Timberly spoke first. “Colton wants you.”

“What? Wants me to do what?”

Timberly stared at her as if she was an idiot. Then her gaze dropped, meaningfully, to below Morgan's waist.

" _What?_ " Morgan might have laughed if she weren’t so close to crying from frustration and fear for Lucas. “No, he doesn’t. He’s with Neveah, like, every night.”

“Yeah, well, now he wants two for the price of one,” Timberly said.

Morgan's top lip peeled back in a snarl. But Timberly wasn't done.

“I guess word got back to Lucas, and he didn’t take it that well.”

They had been fighting… over her?

Morgan felt the blood drain from her face. “I need to see Lucas. Colton could go jump in the stream for all I care. If he touches me, I’ll rip his balls off.”

Leah stepped in front of her. “Don’t be stupid," she said, uncharacteristically sharp. "We’re not hiding you from Colton. We’re hiding you from Neveah.”

The last puzzle piece clicked into place in her mind. Neveah _would_ scratch Morgan’s eyes out if she so much as thought she was looking Colton's way. Her underlings, the ones that sat on the outskirts looking for a way into the group, would be more than happy to help.

“So… you’re saying Neveah doesn’t want to be my sister wife?” Morgan asked.

Timberly and Leah stared at her for a second. Then Timberly burst out laughing. “Wow, you can make a joke.”

She hadn’t been joking, but saw no point in telling them. Planning, budgeting, and knowing way too many facts about survival after an apocalypse were her thing. Navigating the choppy waters of high school drama turned up to eleven… not so much. Morgan was way out of her depth.

 _This isn’t stupid high school stuff. Not anymore_ , she reminded herself. Lucas had really gotten in a fight over her. He was really hurt, and despite the fact Morgan wouldn’t touch Colton with a ten-foot pole, it was partially her fault.

If she paid more attention to the social undercurrents in the village instead of dismissing it as gossip, she might have gotten the jump on it. Neveah was a manipulative little weasel, but she wasn’t stupid. If Morgan had guessed Neveah felt threatened, she could have pulled her aside and talked some sense into her… or maybe not. Neveah was the type to gain power through manufactured outrage.

_I’m so sorry, Lucas, you didn’t deserve any of this. Not for me._

Morgan looked at her friends. “What do I do?”

“For now, stay here,” Timberly said. “We’ll let this die down. Max will make sure Lucas is fine. Colton was just trying to make a point that he’s still head gorilla around here.”

But Timberly had been busy pulling Morgan away when Colton had been kicking the crap out of Lucas.

Tears started up behind her eyes. Lucas was probably hurting right now—he wouldn’t have tried to fight Colton if some part of him didn’t believe the rumors.

“Why didn’t Lucas talk to me?” Morgan asked. “I could have told him… I could have told both of them…” Her breath hitched, and the dam broke. She sank down, crying into her hands.

Timberly, the more comforting of the two, wrapped her arms around Morgan’s shoulders. It didn’t help. There was nothing any of them could do but wait.

 

 

* * * 

 

Max didn’t return until both suns had sunk below the horizon.

After her crying jag, Morgan pulled herself together enough to remember the giant fish she had spent all morning catching—instead of paying attention to the powder keg in the village.

Leah volunteered to go out and retrieve it, so at least they would have dinner tonight.

Max knocked on the door just as Leah returned.

“Where were you?” Timberly demanded, alternately hugging her boyfriend, then punching him hard on the shoulder.

Max made a show of wincing. “Took us awhile to move Lucas. We got him settled with some of Donuts’ gang.”

“What do you mean? Why did it take so long?” Morgan demanded. “How bad is he?”

She didn’t exactly get along with Max, but, like Timberly, he didn’t pull punches. “We’re pretty sure he broke something in his knee. Colton stomped it hard.”

Timberly gasped. Leah put her hand over her mouth.

Morgan _knew_ it. She shouldn’t have been here, hiding out like a coward. “I’m going to go see him.” She looked at her friends. “Can you guys keep Nevaeh off me if she tries to start something?”

Timberly and Leah nodded. Max, however, shook his head. “I don’t think you have to worry about her, tonight. She’s sticking close to Colton.”

Nodding, Morgan strode past him out of the stifling container and into open air. There was definitely a tension in the air through the village. The big bonfire wasn’t going, and conversation seemed muted with gazes flicking toward her as she passed. Morgan kept her head up and headed toward the eastern side of the camp, toward the not-unpleasant smell of the smokehouse.

Donuts sat around his campfire with a few girls clustered around him. They were wannabe hippie types, some with scraps of fabric twisted artfully in their dreads.

Donuts raised his cup in greeting as Morgan approached, and nodded toward their group's cargo container.

Lucas was in the far back, sitting propped up against the rear wall. The only light came from the fire flickering outside, but what she could see of his face was swollen and bruised.

One leg was laid out straight in front of him, and someone had strapped the last remaining plywood boards against it like a splint.

More tears started behind Morgan’s eyes. She knelt down and took Lucas’s hand. “You stupid, stupid idiot…”

He huffed a tired, painful sounding breath. “Just what every guy wants to hear…”

“Shut up. How’s your leg?”

He shook his head, wincing a little as it jarred on something. “It’s not facing the wrong direction, and there are no bones sticking out, but I can’t put any pressure on it… can't walk. I think something in the knee’s broken.”

Morgan took a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay,” she said mostly to herself as she ran through first-aid steps in her head. She had a first-aid booklet in her backpack, but that wouldn’t help her here. “A non-compound fracture reduces the chance of infection. It looks like you all got the leg straightened out, so you just have to keep off it and…” No surgery, no x-rays, no antibiotics, no real way to tell how bad the break actually was. “And you should be up again soon.”

“Yeah.” There was a lie in his smile.

One of those quiet, indefinable moments passed between them. It was as if Lucas was asking a question with his eyes, and Morgan nodded without moving her head. _Yes._

He leaned up and she didn’t move away. His lips touched her own. It was a soft kiss, and unbearable short because in the next moment Lucas winced and drew back, gesturing to his bruised face. “Ow,” he said. “But worth it.”

“You stupid idiot,” she said again, more fondly.

“I’ll be fine.” He gave a crooked grin.

She wasn’t so sure about that. She opened her mouth to ask about the fight, but the door creaked wider. Jacquelyn poked her head in. “Morgan, Colton wants to talk with you.”

Lucas tensed, gripping Morgan’s hand hard. “Don’t.”

“Colton can fuck off,” Morgan said harshly, for both their benefits. “I’m not going anywhere near him, or Neveah.”

Jacquelyn looked surprised. “He kicked Neveah out like an hour ago. You didn’t hear them fighting?”

“No, I was on the other side of the camp. Max said…” But Max had been busy helping Lucas. He probably hadn’t been up to date on the news. And Jacquelyn was no friend of Neveah’s. She probably wouldn’t lie for her. Probably.

“You aren’t talking to Colton,” Lucas said. “Not without me.”

Morgan turned to give him a flat look. “I don’t need protection, and you aren’t getting up right now.”

“Then don’t leave,” he said stubbornly.

“Actually, that might not be a bad idea. Her hashing it out with Colton, I mean,” Timberly said, stepping in from behind Jacqueline. She looked at the other girl. “Did Colton and Neveah really break up?”

Jacqueline shrugged. “She says they did.”

“Uh-huh.” The strength of Timberly’s unimpressed look could have won awards. “And she’s moved out for the night, expecting him to come after her to prove his loyalty, which he will because he’s addicted to her brand of crazy.”

Lucas had a pinched, unhappy look on his face. Morgan’s stomach dropped. “You heard from Neveah that Colton was interested in me, didn’t you?”

He looked away. “Doesn’t matter.”

Timberly rolled her eyes heavenward. “Lord, give me the strength to deal with these boys.”

“It’s not their fault. It’s Neveah’s.” Shaking off Lucas’s grip, Morgan rose. “And I’m going to tell Colton all about it.”

“Morgan—" Lucas protested.

She whirled on him. “ _You_ are my boyfriend. Not him.” The words fell off her tongue, easy as breathing. “I’m going to give that… that _asshat_ a piece of my mind.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Fury had Morgan practically charging back into Colton’s camp, Max and Jacqueline in tow.

There was no sight of Nevaeh—the campfire looked empty without her lackeys. Instead, Colton sat there with a few of his friends. He had a split lip, but otherwise looked fine.

Rising, he nodded to Morgan and gestured to the cargo container. Apparently, he wanted this conversation to be private.

She hesitated, the first tingles of fear creeping in. What if there was some truth to Nevaeh’s rumors? Stepping into an enclosed room with him might not be a good idea. But she wasn’t going to be seen as a coward, either. She followed him in and was glad when he didn’t try to shut the door.

“Morgan—"

The sound of his voice made her see red. She struck him hard with closed fists, aiming for his chest. He ducked away and she ended up hitting his meaty shoulder. “You ass! What the hell is wrong with you? You kicked him when he was down!” She struck again and again until he grabbed her wrists.

“Knock it off!"

“Screw you!” She tried to kick him, but he pushed her away. Morgan fell back against the wall. Straightening, she pushed loose hair out of her face. “Lucas is your friend!”

“I know! Things just got out of control!”

“Out of control?!” Her voice raised to a screech that made Colton wince. She didn’t care. “You broke his kneecap, Colton! And there’s not exactly a doctor around to fix him.”

“I know,” he said again, lower. “Shit… I messed up. Is that what you want to hear? Fine. I didn’t mean for it to get that far, but he attacked me first!”

 _That_ part of the story had been left out in Lucas's version. Morgan wasn’t surprised. “So what if he did? _You_ finished it.”

“I wish I could take it back. I got caught up in the moment and…” There was a look in Colton’s eyes Morgan hadn’t seen before. Grief mixed with desperation. “I knew the second it happened—God, I fucked up. Is he okay?”

“I don’t know.” It hurt to say that, and despite the fact she hated Colton right now, she didn’t like seeing his flinch. “The aliens didn’t drop an X-ray machine along with everything else. His knee is messed up, bad.”

Colton cursed and turned away, running a hand back through his hair.

Arms crossed, Morgan watched him. “Nevaeh told him that you liked me. That had better not be true.”

“She took something I said out of context. Probably on purpose,” he said stiffly.

Which wasn’t exactly a no, but Morgan would take it. “You realize this is a win-win-win for her, right?”

He glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

“Once word gets around—and it already has—no one will mess with Nevaeh because she has proved she's got you on a short leash. That increases her power, which is a win. She’s tested your loyalty and got you to fight for her, another win. Finally, she pushes me out of the group, and puts Timberly, Leah, and probably Jacquelin on notice that they’d better fall in line with her, or else. Win again.”

Colton barked a laugh. “I promise she’s not thinking about things that deeply.”

“Maybe not, but this kind of crap is how she gains power. You’re telling me she never played this game at school?”

Morgan was guessing, but by the dark look flitting across Colton’s face, her words had struck true.

In the next moment, Colton shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I kicked her ass out, and now we have to figure out what to do next.”

Morgan’s uneasiness flooded back. “There is no ‘ _we_ ’ here, Colton.”

“Yes, there is.” He straightened. In the firelight flickering in through the half-open door, he looked dignified and in control. The stupid jock was gone, and someone stronger had taken his place. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said.”

“About what?” It took a good deal of self control not to inch toward the door. He wouldn’t actually…. _try_ anything here, would he? Not with everyone (all of Colton’s friends) probably listening right outside? Did Lucas have a point? Was she an idiot for coming alone?

“About a few things. People listen to me,” Colton said. “I think I could really pull everyone together, but I don’t know what I’m doing. None of us do.” He hesitated. “What are the chances we’re not the only group those aliens dropped on this planet?”

This new subject threw her for such a loop that it took her a few moments to catch up. “We’re not,” Morgan said. “I saw lights—like city lights, near a coastline as the ship flew in.”

“Yeah, that was on the girl’s side of the dome. One of Nevaeh’s friends said the same thing.” He stepped forward. “Here’s what I think: We’re falling apart. Yes, we have the containers and some tools, but we don’t know shit about using them. We're burning and destroying stuff we need because we don't know better. Soon, it'll be gone. We need help before this whole place turns into Lord of the Flies.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” She paused, noting the expression on his face. “Have you ever read the book?”

His lips crept up into a smile. “Watched the movie.”

“Ugh.” She wanted to hit him all over again. “Well, we can’t abandon this field and go out searching for others. Those tools and stuff are too important. Besides, I don’t think people would go. No one likes sleeping out in the open.”

He rolled his eyes. “If only there was someone who brought their own supplies, knows how to live in the woods, and can hunt for herself.”

Morgan stared at him. “I’m not leaving Lucas. Not after what _you_ did to him.”

“Not even to find him medicine?” he asked. “Antibiotics? Painkillers? How about a freakin’ doctor? Do you really think the aliens just kidnapped one high school’s worth of teenagers, and that’s all?”

No, she didn’t.

“I don’t trust you,” she added, “I especially don’t trust your girlfriend.”

“Hey, your _boyfriend_ started the fight today,” Colton replied irritated, and waved off Morgan’s objection. “I’ll handle Nevaeh. And if you don’t trust me… fine. Leave Lucas with Donuts. He’s a good guy.”

It annoyed her that Colton apparently knew where Lucas was this whole time. Max had probably clued him in. “What if I don’t come back with anything? Or I don’t come back at all?”

“You will. You’re a survivor. It’s what I first noticed about you.” He met her gaze, a look of respect in his eye that Morgan didn’t care to see. “I’ll get things organized here, while you’re getting us help. I can do that. Trust me.”

Morgan hesitated for a long moment, running back over their conversation to find the loopholes, where she was going wrong. She couldn’t find anything.

Finding answers was all she wanted to do since they landed here. She sure as hell didn’t need _Colton’s_ permission to do it, but he was right. Lucas needed a doctor about his leg. Even if it did heal… Eventually, other people would get hurt and sick, too. If there was a way to find help, she had to leave.

Stepping forward, Morgan stuck out her hand. Colton took it in his own. His grip was warm and steady.

“Deal,” Morgan said.

 

* * * 

 

Morgan took a moment to grab her tactical backpack out of the cargo container, the first-aid kit, and the box cutter she had been using in place of a knife. There was a blade on her multi-tool, but if something had to break due to overuse she’d rather it be the razor from the box cutter.

Then, she had a chat with Donuts.

She didn’t know the former stoner well, but he had done good for himself by hooking up the still, and was currently experimenting with a smokehouse made from another cargo container. That told her he had a business frame of mind.

She showed him the giant fish she speared that morning. That, along with the spear, was enough to secure a promise that Lucas would be allowed to crash with his group while he healed up.

Privately, Morgan thought Donuts realized it would look good on him to keep Lucas safe. Colton might see himself as the leader, but people would also see what happened to Lucas, and would know that when push came to shove, Donuts had been the one to take Colton's former friend in from the cold.

Lucas was asleep in the same position she had left him in. His skin was waxy and pale and there was a frown on his face. Morgan's heart clenched. He was probably in a lot of pain.

Someone had rolled his pant leg up to splint it. Another had thrown an old T-shirt over the wound. Carefully, Morgan lifted the shirt away. Lucas's knee was purple and black and swelled grotesquely.

 _I should have hit Colton harder,_ she thought.

But he was right. Lucas needed a doctor.

"Morgan?" Lucas stirred, wincing.

"I'm here." Morgan dug around in her bag and brought out the scant first aid kit. Most of the store-bought stuff was useless; cheap Band-Aids, a pair of scissors, and some gauze.

Being her father's daughter, she had added her own items. Now, she plucked out a few of the precious ibuprofen pills and handed them over with a half cup of water. "Take these. It will help with the swelling."

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"Where do you think?" She held up the first aid kit. "In case of emergency, right?"

He looked like he wanted to argue, but pain won out. He knocked two pills back and drank the water. Then, to Morgan's surprise, he gripped her hand. "Are you okay? Colton—"

"I'm fine," she said quickly, reaching up to brush hair back from his face. "We had a talk. That's all."

"That's all?" he repeated doubtfully.

She nodded. "I think he feels bad about what happened, but Donuts said he would put you up here until you're feeling better.”

She hated to give Colton even that much credit, but her first priority was to make sure Lucas felt safe and secure, because he wasn't going to like what she had to say next. "I'm going to get help."

"What?" he rasped.

"There have to be other groups out there, like us." They had had this talk before, between the two of them. But as exhausted as Lucas looked, she wasn't sure he remembered. "There might be somebody who knows how to help with your leg."

He shook his head back and forth. "You don't know that. I don't want you traveling with him…"

 _With Colton?_ She wrinkled her nose. "I'm going alone."

"Alone?" The word seemed to jolt him completely alert. "No, you can't. I don't want you to—"

She squeezed his hand and gazed directly in his eyes. What was it with boys and thinking she had to have their approval to risk her own life? "I'm not asking. I'm going to head east. I saw lights in that direction when we were landing, which which might mean people, or the aliens that brought us here."

"Or it’s someone else," he said. "I don't want you to do this for me. If you died—if you didn't come back—"

Lucas wasn't the type to cry, despite her teasing him about it when they were both little. His eyes looked suspiciously wet now, and it broke her heart. He had gotten hurt because of her.

But Morgan had not asked Lucas to fight for her, and he had no right to ask her not to do what she could for him.

"I'm coming back," she said. "I'm the only one who has a chance of surviving out there. I'm coming back," she repeated more firmly "and I'm bringing help."

He stared at her for a long moment, then visibly sagged. "Just promise me… If it's between bringing back help or coming back at all, I want you here. I don't give a damn about a doctor."

 _He doesn't now, but if infection sets in…_ "I promise," she said, then leaned over and kissed him again.

 

 

* * *

It was late at night by the time Morgan left the cargo container. She stayed until Lucas had drifted back off to sleep, and had left behind all the painkillers she had.

Most of the camp was asleep. Donuts and his crew were sacked out around their campfire. No one had started a large bonfire tonight. Morgan thought she was the only one left awake until she saw Timberly and Leah.

The other two girls rose from their seats on a log without a word. Together, they stepped out of the camp and into the darkness. Once they were away, Morgan quickly filled them in.

"Donuts promised he would help take care of Lucas, but could you guys keep an eye on him, too?" she asked.

"Of course," Leah said promptly.

Timberly winced. "I will do what I can, but I have to be honest with you: it's going to be really important for me and Max to stay in Colton's good graces. He acted nice to you now, Morgan, but we know it's a matter of time before Nevaeh gets her claws back into him." She glanced Leah. "It might be best if you hung around Donuts’ campfire more often, before Nevaeh starts giving you the hairy eyeball."

Part of Morgan wondered if she should be mad at her, but… no. Timberly saw the currents of society as Morgan didn't — it was why, when push came to shove, she had ditched her cheerleader friends and latched onto the smart girls.

Colton had called Morgan a survivor, but Timberly was the one who would always keep her head above water.

Morgan could respect that. Actually, she could _use_ that. "Do either of you want to come with me?"

Timberly shook her head. "I have a good thing going on here. And if there are any problems… Max won't go down like Lucas—no offense."

"No," Leah said. "I don't think I would be much help out in the wilds." She shrugged. "I've… never liked camping."

Timberly drew Morgan into a tight hug. "I'll do what I can for Lucas. I might be able to make sure he has a place back around our campfire, once things settle down."

That helped. It wasn't that Morgan didn't trust Donuts, but she would feel better if Lucas had a place among friends. Or, former friends.

Goodbyes said, Morgan peeled off and headed across the field for the tree where she had stored her MRE’s and extra supplies a few months, and what felt like a lifetime, ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part: Aliens!!!! (Well, alien...)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's my birthday, I'm going to update with an extra-long chapter complete with ALIENS. (Well, an alien.) That being said, there may be a week or so until the next one. 
> 
> Game changing chapters like this one are always a little tough to get right. I'd appreciate any comments or suggestions.

By her second day traveling, Morgan spotted the shadows of mountains on the horizon.

She had been walking steadily east—or at least what would be considered east on Earth. In any case, she walked in the direction where the first sun rose every day. (The second sun rose a little north of the first and about two hours behind.)

That was the direction where she had seen the cluster of lights by the ocean while the dome had descended. On Earth, most of the population lived near the coasts, so it made sense for the same to be here. She hoped.

There was no sign anyone had followed her from the village. The only other large creatures she spotted were deer and elk. Once, distantly, she thought she saw some sort of leaping antelope. The herd vanished through the trees before she could get a good look.

While traveling back and forth between the stream and the village, she hadn’t realized how alike the meadows were. Now, she had crossed over a dozen, all similar. Planned. It would be either a field of wheat or rice-like stalks about the width of two football fields, broken by stands of fruit and nut trees. Sometimes the meadow would have a stream running through it. Sometimes a pond teeming with fish. Those that had neither instead had a cylinder to dispense the alien cakes.

It made Morgan feel like she was walking in circles. She began cutting gashes in the largest oak she saw at the beginning of every stand of trees. The marks would help her find her way back when (not _if_ , she couldn’t let herself think of _if_ ) she got help.

Lucas’s bruised, battered face swam in and out of her thoughts. Her mood swung between guilt for leaving him, and fear that she wasn’t traveling fast enough. What if an infection set in while she was gone? What if she found help only to realize she was too late?

Her pace quickened until her calves burned as she reached the beginning of another meadow. There was _always_ another meadow.

 _Things will be different when I get to the mountains_ , she thought. Their distant shadows had grown deeper as she traveled closer. Through the heat haze of the two suns, she thought she saw snowcapped peaks.

_I’m going to have to cross that, somehow. And all I have to wear are jeans and a T-shirt._

She would think of something. Maybe, if she could catch an animal and skin it—

The attack came out of nowhere.

Morgan was hit from behind, hard enough to drive her forward to her hands and knees. A guttural animal growled, and fabric tore—her backpack.

Morgan brought her elbow back and struck something downy soft. She half-rolled, feeling the weight of her attacker fall to the side. It still had a dragging hold on her backpack, threatening to pin her.

Tucking her arms in, she slid out of the straps and crab-crawled away. The snap of golden wheat stalks told that her attacker was doing the same. Morgan whirled around.

It was an honest-to-god velociraptor.

The animal stood a few inches below her height, with a sinuous S-shaped neck, long rod-like tail, and wickedly curved three-toe claws which were currently entangled in one of the loose straps of Morgan’s backpack. Unlike in the movies, it was covered with mottled white and black feathers all over its body, shading to brown in places. The top of its head had a crest of vivid yellow and blue feathers, like a cockatiel, with a matching yellow fan at the end of its tail.

The raptor backed a step and opened large jaws that showed teeth that were pointed at the front and had molars on the back.

The backpack was still entangled in its claws and slid with the step. Growling, the raptor tried to shake it off to no avail. Its yellow, slit-pupil eyes never left Morgan’s face.

She should run, but she _needed_ that bag.

“Hey!” she yelled, lifting her arms to make herself as big as possible. That’s what you were supposed to do to scare off big predators, right?

The small part of her mind that wasn’t jibbering in amazement reminded her that if she couldn’t outrun a bear, she probably couldn’t outrun a freakin’ dinosaur.

And weren't raptors supposed to be pack hunters, too? Crap.

Sucking in a breath, she made her voice come out as fearsome as possible. “Go away!”

The raptor opened its mouth in a hiss. The three fingered front hands, tucked in close to its chest,clenched and relaxed to show straight, needle-like claws.

Then a _second_ pair of wings flared out from its body, where its ribs should be; stunningly large and patterned white and black like a magpie.

Okay. Definitely _not_ an Earth dinosaur.

The wings spread wide in an obvious threat display. It worked. Morgan was plenty threatened. If she were anywhere near a tree, she would be halfway up it by now.

Or maybe not. Her backpack had everything she needed to survive.

Heart pounding, she stood her ground. “Go away!” she yelled again. “That’s my bag. Bad raptor! Shoo!” Hopefully, it wouldn’t matter what she said, as long as she sounded really fierce about it.

The raptor made a high warbling sound deep in its throat that ended in a growling cough. It didn’t budge an inch.

“Oh, to hell with this.” The soil was a little rockier here than back at the villager. There were visible stones peeking out of the grass. Morgan snatched one and threw.

It missed the raptor by a good three feet.

The raptor twisted to watch it sail by, then turned back. Morgan could swear it had a look of derision in its yellow eyes.

Then it picked up its own stone in a three-fingered hand and lobbed it at her. Morgan ducked, but it hit her shoulder with a solid thud.

“Ow! Damn it!” It might have been funny, except the raptor used her distraction to advance, wings flicking back to rest tight against its body, but the arms up and claws on display.

Morgan backed, despite herself.

Then the raptor stumbled, steps fouled by the backpack still caught in its toe claws. It snarled, frustrated.

Except… there was a cadence to the noise. A complex rise and fall of sound. Was it… speech?

“You’re not a dinosaur.” As soon as Morgan spoke, the creature—she was still going to call it a raptor because it was the closest Earth equivalent—froze and stared back at her. “You… You’re not from around here, are you? Are you one of the aliens that brought us here?”

The raptor cocked its head.

Swallowing, Morgan pushed the words through her dry mouth. “Did you… Uh…” She didn’t dare take her eyes off the thing but pointed up at the sky. “Did you bring us here? From Earth? Earth!” she repeated louder.

The raptor blinked—the eyelids moved sideways across its eyes, which was creepy. Then it pointed upward, too.

As Morgan gaped, the raptor's other hand pressed against its own chest.

Then it said… something. The noise was so garbled and low that Morgan couldn’t catch the syllables. The skin around the raptor’s lips didn’t move very much. Most of the sound seemed to come from the back of its mouth.

The raptor stared at Morgan for a few moments, then repeated the sound.

“That—that’s your name? Or what your species is called?” Morgan shook her head and tried her best at repeating the noise. “Alphonzikk?”

It—Alphonzikk?—cheeped and swiveled its head and shoulders in a sinuous movement.

Morgan figured it was her turn. She pressed one hand against her chest. “Morgan.”

“Oorrgan,” growled Alphonzikk.

Close enough.

Figuring they were on a roll, Morgan opened the palm of her hand and gestured to the bag still tangled in Alphonzikk’s very large, steak-knife-like toe claws. “That’s mine. I know you don’t understand what I’m saying, but I need that back.”

She took a careful step forward, keeping her hand open and outstretched.

Closer up, she saw that the raptor wasn’t just covered with feathers. It had what looked like flat leather straps crossing and recrossing its body, leaving room for the wings. These straps were half buried in the feathers and seemed more functional than decorative, as most ended in pouches. It was like a very complex tool belt.

After a little more gesturing, Alphonzikk bent and untangled the strap from its toe claws. It stepped back and Morgan collected her bag. There was a rip along the top, though nothing had fallen out.

Alphonzikk raised and lowered his crest of feathers as Morgan slid the pack over her shoulders. Then it coughed something out she couldn’t understand.

“Um, I’m headed to the mountains. That way.” She pointed to the horizon. When that got no answer, she made finger walking motions across her palm and pointed again. “Have you seen people like me over there?”

She could draw a picture on a bare patch of ground, but that would be putting herself below the level of the raptor for a good length of time. That… didn’t sound like a good idea.

Alphonzikk looked toward the mountain, swished its rod-like tail. Then it jerked its snout to Morgan’s right, the direction she had started to think as south.

“Oh. Okay. I’m going that way.” Again, she pointed.

Alphonzikk snapped at her outstretched hand, teeth clicking a bare centimeter from the tips of her fingers.

She snapped her hand back to her chest. “Watch it!” She did not want to lose her freakin’ fingers in first contact.

The raptor snarled, showing pearly fangs.

Hastily, Morgan backed, and Alphonzikk followed her—she swore it was making a parody of the ‘shooing’ motion she’d made earlier. Then it stepped to the side, still shooing, this time herding her south.

“Is this what you want?" She took a few steps south and the raptor calmed down, walking behind her.

 

* * *

Every time Morgan turned to walk east toward the mountains, the crest on Alphonzikk’s head would rise in warning like an angry cockatiel.

When she insisted, she would get snarled and snapped at.

Once, in a bit of frustration, the raptor actually head-butted her. Although it stood nearly Morgan’s height, it was a lot lighter. Like being hit by a large dog than a person almost her size.

Hollow-boned, maybe? It made no attempt to fly, and she would have noticed if there was something as big as a velociraptor in the sky. The wings might be for show, like an ostrich.

Whatever else Alphonzikk was, it was probably human intelligent. She saw it digging through the pouches on the leather straps and snacking on whatever was in there. So it wasn’t a collar or a harness, like what would be on a pet.

And despite all its pushing and snarling, it didn’t outright attack her again.

Maybe it did understand her, and it was leading her to other humans. Somewhere she could find help. Or… it was bringing her to more of its kind and they were going to have Morgan-stew tonight.

She kept a sharp lookout, but no other raptors showed up.

And somehow, despite the raptor's bad attitude, she didn't feel a sense of danger. Traveling east had been her best guess. If this alien was trying to bring her somewhere or show her something… well, it was the best lead she'd gotten so far.

_Are the raptors responsible for the lights I saw?_

Morgan pictured a city full of them. Some driving cars, others sitting in raptor coffee shops…

… The suns must be getting to her head. She should stop to eat soon.

The meadows, broken by stands of trees, were in the same order going south as they were east to west. While walking through one orchard, Morgan spotted the woody bark of an orange tree. Sure enough, ripe fruits hung just out of reach.

Alphonzikk noticed her hesitation and coughed low in its throat. The crest of feathers rose in warning.

“Hold up a minute,” she snapped. Sliding her backpack off, she jumped to catch the lowest branch of the tree. She’d gotten pretty good at climbing for food over the last few weeks.

Alphonzikk stared up at her from the ground, jaws parted and wings half spread. It was hard to tell, but it looked alarmed.

Morgan laughed down at it. “You’re practically a bird. Don’t you roost in trees?”

The raptor danced in place, extending its long neck to watch her carefully. She guessed the answer was no.

Definitely more "ostrich" than "hawk" then.

Morgan reached out to an orange. It dimpled under her touch. Perfectly ripe. There were a few more within easy reach.

She dropped them—Alphonzikk scurried back in alarm—before she leaped down, herself.

“Here,” she said, picking one up and holding it out. Time to make friends. “Do you eat fruit? It’s an orange. Or-ange,” she repeated.

Carefully, Alphonzikk extended its three-fingered claws. She handed it over and grabbed an orange of her own, digging out her box cutter from the backpack.

The raptor’s eyes fixed on her as she used the cutter to start the peel. From there, she stored the cutter in her pants pocket (a good excuse for having it within reach) and peeled the rest with her fingers. “There are seeds in the middle, but you can just pop those out. Here, see?” She demonstrated, then popped a segment in her mouth.

Alphonzikk growled and looked down at its own fruit. The three-fingered claw hands were at least as dexterous as human fingers—maybe even more so. Alphonzikk had its orange peeled in half the time it took Morgan.

From there it removed a section, dealt with the seeds, and tossed the remainder in its mouth, chewing with half-squinted concentration.

“I guess you aren’t just a meat-eater,” Morgan observed, watching the raptor swallow. "Maybe I should be thinking of you as a flightless parrot."

“Oooorange,” Alphonzikk agreed.

* * *

The suns had set by the time they walked out from under the trees.

This next meadow had a pond instead of a stream. Morgan sat on a rock and used the small fishing kit she had in her bag with no luck. Either this pond was empty, or her cheap-ass lure didn’t look enough like a tasty bug in low light.

Alphonzikk seemed to think the day was over, too. It perched on its own rock across the pond like a goose settling down on a nest.

After removing the straps and pouches, it preened itself, paying special attention to the long feathers along its wings.

Morgan watched with fascination, and at first, she didn’t register a tug on her line. A bite! She reeled it in by hand and was rewarded with a good-sized trout.

She had her MREs in the bag but wanted to save those for emergencies. Besides, Alphonzikk seemed more relaxed after sharing the orange. She had no idea where the raptor was leading her, or why, but it wouldn’t hurt to extend the olive branch a bit further.

“Alphonzikk,” she called, but the raptor didn’t look up. Well, she already figured she was destroying its name with her pronunciation. “Hello? Al? Al!”

For some reason, that got the raptor’s attention.

Morgan grinned, deliberately showing teeth, and held up the trout. “Do you eat fish?”

* * *

They ate their shared meal over a fire. Or at least Morgan did.

She didn’t know what Al’s problem was, but it chirped and coughed as Morgan impaled her half of the fish on a stick and put it over the fire.

Crest rising and falling, Al crept closer to watch the process with fascination.

Morgan had no idea where Al’s portion had gone to. Maybe it was a fan of sushi.

The raptor made no comment as Morgan ate her portion cooked; she wasn’t in the mood for tapeworm.

They spent an uneasy night camped out.

Morgan slept lightly, startling at every sound, one hand gripped around the box cutter in her pocket. Just in case.

Al stayed on the other end of the campfire, though once or twice she swore she saw the gleam of eyes watching her.

Morgan woke just before dawn to a crunching sound. Rubbing her eyes, she looked around.

Al had somehow managed to capture a rabbit and was chewing the head between its jaws. Raw.

Spotting Morgan awake, it stopped and held the half-eaten rabbit out in invitation.

“No thanks,” Morgan said. “I’ll have a piece of fruit or something.”

Apparently, rabbit sat well with Al’s stomach, though Morgan did see it picking fur out of its teeth for an hour afterward, with a look of raptor disgust on its face.

“You don’t have rabbits where you come from? Or… you don't know how to deal with the fur, maybe?” she guessed.

That would make sense. This place was so Earth-like and Al… clearly wasn’t.

What if the animals wherever the raptors came from didn’t have fur? Just feathers.

“That’s why we skin our rabbits,” Morgan said, just to fill the silence as they continued to walk south. The mountains were again out of sight. There was no point in turning east. “Also, the fur can be used to make clothing… which you don’t use, I guess. How do you make those leather straps…”

They had come out of a stand of trees and were about to cross into another meadow.

Abruptly, Al’s head went up, feathered crest raised to full height.

Morgan stopped. She couldn’t see whatever had grabbed its attention.

Al took a deep, gusting breath. Then, with a look at Morgan, it charged straight ahead.

Morgan hesitated, but followed.

They passed through a thin line of trees into yet another meadow (big surprise). Only this one was different.

The field stopped halfway, like a hot knife had carved a line through the grass. Beyond lay bare, sandy dirt.

“What the hell?” Morgan scuffed the dirt with the toe of her shoe, then bent to touch it.

The soil was hot and sandy and glittered with unfamiliar minerals. The land that lay beyond was utterly featureless. No trees, plants, or animals. Just bare soil as far as the eye could see.

She looked at Al who was watching her, unsurprised. So, the raptor knew this was here.

Morgan spread her hands, palm up. Hopefully, the expression of, “I don’t understand” was a universal one.

Al copied her exactly. Then it crouched in that goose-settling way and dragged the tip of one claw into the soil. With a coughing-growl, it stepped back.

Morgan stared down at a simple drawing of a large circle set on top of a fatter trapezoid. “That’s… nice?” She looked at the raptor. “I don’t know what this is.”

Kneeling, she drew a stick figure man. “Human,” she said.

“Ooorrgan,” replied Al, massacring her name.

“No, I mean, _yes_. I’m human. Are there more humans around? Have you seen more of us?” She started to draw more, but Al growled and tapped its own drawing with an impatient toe-claw.

“Rahganarrr.”

Then Al butted Morgan in a friendly-like fashion before setting off, following the border of the meadow to the south.

Apparently, they were on the move again.

 

* * * 

 

The boundary line continued on like an invisible hand had taken a straightedge to the landscape. A perfect division between meadows, trees, and the desert beyond.

Even the streams ended at the line, sinking into the soil as if the water was falling into an invisible underground cavern.

Today was much hotter than the previous day. By the time the second sun rose, Morgan was a sweaty mess.

Al was worse off. Its jaws were open and panting. It took every opportunity to drink at a stream. Finally, when they reached a stand of trees, it sank down, mouth agape and wings spread as if to press itself into the cool earth.

 _I could head back east now,_ Morgan thought, leaning against the trunk of a tree. Al looked completely worn out—apparently, raptors didn’t handle heat as well as humans. She was sure she could get a head start.

But she had come this far, and she had become convinced Al was trying to show her _something_.

No. Whatever this was, she would see it through.

Al stirred again toward the later afternoon. A cool breeze sighed through the trees and dropped a few ripe walnuts around their feet.

Morgan offered a couple to Al, who turned up its nose. Not a fan of nuts, then. Well, they were high in calories. She stored a few in her bag.

“Rahganarr?” she suggested.

“Rahganarr,” Al growled, rising.

Now, if only she knew what that meant.

* * *

They found Rahanarr as the second sun was setting.

At first, she thought it was another cake dispenser. It was an alien device that sat straddling the boundary line between meadow and desert: A globe of smoky gray sitting on top of a fat trapezoid base.

Al’s feathers perked up. It circled the device again and again, bobbing its head excitedly.

Morgan was less enthused. She approached cautiously, arms crossed. “This is the… Rahganarr?” She dropped her bag to get a closer look. There was no port or switch or button.

Al chipped again and swished its tail. Then, eyes bright, it placed both claw hands on the surface of the globe.

It looked at Morgan expectantly.

“You want me to touch it? Like this?” Carefully, she placed her palms upon the globe. Was it going to show her something, or—

A tingling electric current raced through her arms and up, directly into her mind.

 

* * *

 

Morgan woke, lying flat on the ground.

 _Am I hung over again?_ she thought. _What the hell am I laying on? Sand?_

Then she remembered. Wincing, she tried to move. A bolt of pain shot through her head.

“Gods, my head hurts,” groaned a voice. “They never said it hurt.”

Only that voice was definitely not human. And it— _he_ —had definitely not been speaking English.

“What?” Morgan asked.

“What?" Alphron’zikk replied, again not in English.

Only Morgan had totally understood him.

Gingerly, Morgan sat up. It felt like someone had taken their fingers and stirred around in her brain.

It was full-on night now—she must have been out for hours. They both had.

She stared over the top of the Rahganarr— _the knowledge transfer device_ —her brain helpfully supplied, at the raptor who was picking himself up off the ground.

“What did you do to me?” she rasped.

“What else was I supposed to do? Keep miming everything?” Al grabbed at his own head. “Ugh, don’t answer that. Talking hurts. Listening hurts. _Thinking_ hurts.”

Morgan had spoken in English. Al replied in the language of the Yellow Crests, his people, and she’d understood him.

The fact that she knew all this… her head spun… and she wanted to throw up her own brain.

Sinking down, Morgan rested her cheek on the cool sand. Al was right. Thinking hurt. She was going to take a break from it for a while.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I'll try to make it up to you by posting a long chapter. :)

A good hour passed before Morgan felt ready to drag herself upright again. “I have questions,” she said, one hand to her still aching head. “ _So_ many questions.”

Al tilted his head slightly to the right in a gesture that clearly meant, “Go on”. Part of the Yellow Crest’s vocabulary was expressed as body language, including the raising and lowering of specific feathers.

The fact that Morgan now knew this as intimately as someone who had grown up speaking Yellow Crest fluently was… amazing. Or maybe she would feel amazement after her head stopped throbbing.

So, questions. She had a thousand of them and wasn’t sure where to start. What was one supposed to even say to an alien? First contact wasn't a high school elective.

“This would have been a lot easier if you weren’t a being with a soul,” Al muttered before Morgan could dredge something up. “Then I could have just eaten you and been on my way.”

Not eating someone was a fabulous place to start.

"Being with a soul?" Morgan repeated in her own language, then shook her head as the meaning fell into place. "Do you mean, sentient? Velociraptors don't eat sentient people?"

"Velociraptor?" Al's crest of feathers rose in interest at the word. "No, why? Do you monkey-children?"

"I'm not a monkey. I'm a _human_. And no, we don't. There aren't any other sentient creatures on my planet."

Al visibly relaxed, and Morgan realized he had actually been wary. The creature who could have sprung from a natural history museum—minus the bonus pair of wings—was actually a little scared of her. She bit back a half-hysterical giggle.

And he was staring at her as fascinated as she was at him.

"You look like a monkey," he said. "I used to have a pet monkey when I was a fledgling, back on our planet. You don't have the same feathers, though."

Morgan's brain briefly stalled out on the idea of a monkey with feathers. Maybe every creature had feathers where Al came from. "Your people aren't from this planet, either?" She gestured around at the desert on one side, Earth-like meadow on the other. "What is this place?"

"We're at the border between ranges." Al lazily scratched at his neck with a hind foot and pointed with his snout toward the desert. "That's a new range, or it will be, once the Makers fill in this section."

"The Makers?"

"The ones who made this world, of course." He looked at her. "Don't you humans know anything? Or is this your first hunt away from your pack?"

"No, I mean... We were just dropped here. Two months ago I was a high school student on Earth. My planet. Then the—did you call them Makers? They kidnapped us and dropped us off here."

Al's crest half-rose—an expression of surprise equivalent to a human raising his eyebrows. "I thought this weird land had a new smell to it. So you don't know _anything_?" He sounded disappointed.

"I was looking for other groups of humans." She leaned forward. "What can you tell me? It doesn't sound like your people brought us here, but do you know how to contact the… uh, Makers? Can we go back home?"

"No one knows anything about the Makers. Only that they reshape the barren patches and drop beings with souls onto them. They added these knowledge transfer devices on the borders so separate species could talk to one another."

Those quilt-like patches of land she saw as the dome ship descended... "How many other species are there?"

"More than the teeth you shed in a year, I bet. The Elders in my pride spoke with all kinds. I never heard of monkeys— _humans_ —like you, though. Makes sense if you're new."

"You haven't seen any others like me around?" Morgan pressed. "That's what I'm doing--I'm trying to find other groups of humans. We're all a bunch of teenagers back in our village, and we don't know what we're doing..." She trailed off as Al's body language shifted to one of negation.

"I've never heard of the Makers setting down more than one group per landmass. Sorry."

Absurdly, hot tears prickled behind Morgan's eyes. She had clung to the hope that there had to be other human encampments out there, somewhere. Maybe even one that had her father and sister (the odds were vanishingly tiny, but she couldn't quash that tiny stubborn hope. If anyone could get onto an alien ship, it was her father.). Morgan looked away, blinking rapidly. "But you don't know for sure."

"How can anyone know anything for sure?" was his answer. "Are you male or female?"

"What?" She was briefly taken aback. Then again, why would an alien even assume? "Female. Why? What are you?"

Al's top lip lifted to show pearly fangs. The equivalent of a smile. "Male, of course. Can't you see the feathers?" He tilted his head down and Morgan obediently looked, noticing again small blue pin-feathers poking out of the crest of yellow. If those were just growing in then Al might be young, like her.

"What about you?" she asked. "What are you doing in the human's territory?"

He stilled and all the feathers along his body dropped flat. "I guess I'm on a journey, too. I was looking for guidance from the—" He made a slightly gurgled growling sound that Morgan's new knowledge translated as a not-quite Yellow Crest word that roughly meant, "Stone Seekers".

"Are they another species of alien?"

Al cheeped an affirmative. "They're fat and they look like they would taste delicious, only they have souls, too," he said with regret. "The Elders say they were one of the first people here, and have a knowledge of All Things. If you have questions, they have answers. They may not be able to tell you if there are more humans around, since your species is so new to this planet, but they should know if the Makers ever drop more than one group."

That sounded promising. Maybe these Stone Seekers also knew how to contact the Makers. She could plead their case for getting the hell off this planet and back to Earth. "Do you know how to find the… the Stone Seekers?"

"Their range should be across the new land." He gestured toward the desert. "What's where I was going, before I ran into you."

She hesitated, but this was the best lead she had. "Do you want company?"

 

 

* * * 

She soon found that Al had a sense of direction every bit as accurate as a goose flying south for the winter.

They were traveling across the border to the direct southwest as soon as the first sun rose the next morning, but not before Al advised Morgan to stock up on some of the "Maker's gifts".

"The what?"

"The food that comes out of the machines. We passed one beyond the trees."

"You mean, those alien cakes?" She described the cake-cylinders.

Al bobbed his head. "Grab a few. The gifts are different for every range, see? These came from mine." He dug into one of his pouches and brought a dry, orange mass that had a preprocessed look to it. "The Makers try their best, but they can't provide everything that used to be on our old planets. The gifts make up for it. Our healers told us to eat at least one a month." He tucked his portion away. "The Stone Seekers were the first to figure it out. Before that, people in our pride were dying from bad livers. They weren't getting all the nutrients they needed."

If nothing else, Morgan had just learned something valuable she could take back to Lucas and the others.

There was a cake-cylinder in the last meadow, just as Al said. She ate a cake right away--the taste hadn't improved at all--and loaded up on six more. Good for a half a year's worth.

 _I won't be gone that long_ , she promised herself.

 

* * *

The longer Morgan walked along the dry featureless plain of the new range, she more she came to realize this wasn’t a desert. Even deserts back on Earth had life, when you knew what to look for. It this 'new range' was, truly, like a blank slate waiting to be colored in. No mountains, not the slightest slope, and completely devoid of plants. Just bare packed dirt as far as the eye could see.

“How long will it take to cross this?” she asked.

“Seven days if we were traveling lengthwise, but we are only cutting across one corner. Two days at most. Two days is all I could stand,” Al added. “The water is supposed to taste terrible. When we come across an oasis, you’ll see.”

They reached the first “oasis” a few hours later. It was nothing more than an open, concrete pit. However, this water was filled with tiny popping bubbles as if there were a fish tank aerator on the bottom. Maybe to discourage algae. Absolutely nothing grew on the sides of the pit, like it would on Earth. It looked as sterile and clean as if someone came to scrub it every day.

Morgan stared doubtfully at it. “You’re sure this is safe to drink?”

Al, too, seemed hesitant. “It should be.”

She gave him a look. “Have you _actually_ crossed over a new range before?”

“Well… No.” He didn’t quite look her in the eye. “But I listened to the Elders who have. They only said even the best swimmer would drown if you fell in one of these. So you can drink from it, but carefully.” With that, he crouched on the edge of the pit. His sinuous neck was longer than his shorter forearms. He used those for balance as he dipped his head over the side, the tail straight out for counter-balance.

The edge of the water was just out of reach.

“Al, wait.” Morgan reached for her backpack and pulled out a measuring cup she used as a bowl and a length of fishing line. She quickly tied the line to the handle and dipped it in.

The cup lost about half the fluid as she reeled it back up, but there was enough for a few mouthfuls.

Not taking any chances, she used the straw filter to suck it up. Even through the charcoal filter, the water tasted… flat. Completely void minerals. There was no life in it at all.

Al watched her with a bemused expression. She dipped the cup again and handed it over, hesitating at the straw. She only had one left and Al’s teeth were sharp. “This device filter's water and makes it safe. Do you want to use it?”

“Not if it makes the water smell like that thing.” He took the half-full cup in his three-finger hands and tipped his open mouth back, pouring directly in. He made such a disgusted face at the taste of the flat water she had to bite back a laugh.

Still, they made sure to drink their fill before moving on.

As Morgan walked, her thoughts turned back to the human range (or should she be calling it a habitat?). Al said it was new, which meant it probably looked very much like this area not long ago.

The streams that ran through the meadow might be fed by underground pits like this. The water was somehow changed to Earth specifications, then pumped up to the surface.

The Makers had gone through a lot of trouble to make their land comfortable for humans. But why?

“Al, do your Elders know why the Makers brought us all here?”

Al swished his tail in the equivalent of a human head shake. “There used to be a lot of debate. Some thought we were being raised like Tallu for slaughter, or to take the secrets of a nest's weavings. My dad used to say it was for an experiment, to show the Makers how we lived and managed the land.”

She almost smiled. “We wondered the same thing. It looks like a people-zoo.”

“Zoo?”

“On Earth, we place different animals in exhibits so we can learn about them and see their behaviors and stuff. No sentients,” she hastened to explain, twinging a little at the lie. There was always the question about chimps and dolphins…

“Do you eat these animals?” Al asked.

“No, we just wanted to learn about them.”

“It sounds like you and the Makers have a lot in common.” His tone was unexpectedly bitter.

“Well, what do you think all this is for?”

He was silent for a few moments. “In your zoos, did you let your animals mingle and talk to one another?” He continued when she shook her head. “This planet isn’t a zoo. It’s a battleground.”

She stopped in place, staring at him. “What do you mean?”

His feathers went flat all at once. She was starting to realize he did that when he was uncomfortable. “Let’s keep going. We’re making good time. We should be able to reach the Stone Seekers by tomorrow evening.”

“Al—”

“I don’t want to tell the same story twice.”

* * *

Al seemed to be a raptor on a mission. He walked steadily onward without rest.

However, his answers kept getting shorter and shorter through the heat of the afternoon, his mouth open and panting. His feathers clung to his body as if glued, except for his wings which he kept slightly extended away from the heat of his body.

Thanks to her human sweat glands, Morgan was handling the heat better… though she imagined she smelled terrible.

There was no shade here. Not a tree. Not even a large rock. Just a dry, dusty plain as far as the eye could see.

They made it to the next oasis just as both suns reached their zenith.

Al all but flopped at the edge of the pool, clearly ready to extend his neck down and hope for the best.

“Don’t you dare,” Morgan snapped, then redid her cup-on-a-string trick. She let Al drink first before taking her own sips. The water was disgustingly lukewarm. She made herself drink her fill. Then, pulling up another cupfull, she poured it over her head. That was a lot better. “Here.”

Instead, Al poured his portion on the ground. Then, fluffing up his feathers, he rolled around the wetted dust like a chicken taking a dirt-bath. Well, he knew what worked best for him.

After he was done, he looked at Morgan, head tilted curiously. “Why does the heat make your face red?”

“What?” Morgan put a hand to her cheek and pulled it away when she registered a slight sting. “Oh, damn.” She dug in her first-aid kit for a small tube of sunscreen.

Despite being outside all day, she had never gotten a sunburn in the human habitat. But whatever blocked harmful UV rays there wasn’t in place here.

“Let me guess: You don’t sunburn?” she asked wryly, touching her face and wrinkling her nose at the tight feeling around her nose. Yup. Definitely sunburned, and she didn’t even have a hat to keep the worst off her face.

“The suns _burn_ you?” Al sounded horrified.

“Try running around without feathers. See what that does to your skin.” She added sunscreen to her arms, rolling up the short sleeves of her shirt past her bra strap. She felt his gaze on her and looked up to see him watching with fascination.

“Those are… weavings?”

“What, my clothes? Yeah, I guess. It's fabric made from cotton. See?” She pulled the edge of her shirt out, surprised when the raptor touched it delicately with the tips of his claws.

He bent in close, the pupils expanding to peer closer. “The weave is so small. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s machine-made.” She flopped on her back, arm across her eyes. “I don’t know what we’re going to do for more fabric when the stuff we have wears out.”

“Hmm. Perhaps the Stone Seekers will have an answer for that, too.”

 _These Stone Seekers sound like the Wizard of Oz._ Not a happy thought, but it was too late to back out now.

Al didn't seem ready to move on, and Morgan was ready for a rest, too. Would be smarter to take a nap through the heat of the day rather than power through it.

Her drowsy thoughts turned back to the camp. She hoped Lucas was okay, that he wasn’t in pain or sick by now.

_Even if these Stone Seekers can’t talk to the Makers, they might have medicine. Advice. Anything._

… She wouldn't say no to a nice pair of ruby slippers to get her home, either.

 

* * * 

Either they traveled really fast or the new range was narrower than Al thought. They reached the next border early the following morning.

Just like at the human habitat, there was a sharp line separating the two lands. One side was the empty desert, the other was a flat, ugly swamp with round stones poking up out of blackish water.

“This is where the Stone Seekers live?” Morgan asked doubtfully.

“I… think so?”

She gave him a sharp look. “You _think_ so?”

Al shifted from foot to foot. “This is my first hunt outside my range.”

“Great,” she muttered.

No help for it. Morgan took the final step over the boundary.

It was the rough equivalent of stepping on an alien world.

Instantly, the temperature of the air plummeted at least twenty degrees. She took a lungful of pungent air filled with the scent of seaweed and rotting things.

Overhead, the sky was steel gray with threatening rain clouds.

 _The Makers have weather control systems, too,_ she realized.

Al stepped forward and visibly checked himself as the, cool, pungent air struck his face.

She almost felt bad for him. If she was smelling all this with her human sense of smell, who knew what he was picking up?

The look they exchanged needed no translation: Yuck.

The rocks that stuck out of the murky water were close enough together that Morgan could walk across them without getting her feet wet. Luckily, they weren’t overly slimy and her backpack was close enough to her body so it didn’t upset her balance.

Small insects, like brine flies—if brine flies had so many legs they literally covered their entire bodies—scuttled away from her shoes.

_They’re more afraid of me than I am of them. I hope._

They’d only traveled about fifty feet when Al screeched and leaped straight into the air. Something that looked roughly like a starfish had wrapped itself around one of his toe claws.

His surprise made him fall into the thigh-deep water. He thrashed for a second and struck straight down with his hand claws. A moment later there were two halves of a starfish-thing where there had been one.

“Are you okay?” Morgan asked. She reached a hand down and helped haul him back onto a dry rock. He was surprisingly light. “Did it bite you?”

“It tried.” Al flipped one half of the starfish thing in the air and caught it in his jaws with a crunch. He licked his lips with a forked tongue. “Salty. Do you want the other half?”

“Ugh. Pass.” She had just arrived here and already could taste salt in the back of her throat just by breathing.

This was going to be a long walk.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: The Stone Seekers and Al reveals a huge secret he's been keeping...


	10. Chapter 10

Luckily, the rocks got wider as they went on until they more or less formed a pathway. The briny water collected into deeper pools, some as black as oil or toxic red, but others shading toward a clear, deep blue.

Experimentally, Morgan dipped a finger in the clear water and tasted it. She almost gagged. It was like putting her tongue right on a a salt-lick. Definitely not drinkable.

The lack of fresh water was going to be a problem for her and Al before long.

However, there was plenty to eat. Animals she supposed were alien-fish could be seen darting through the pools. She and Al caught sight of one creature crawling from one pond to the next on stubby legs.

Plants grew more numerous as well. Lichen clung to the rocks in shades of red and yellow. Brown, flat lily-pads dotted the ponds and opened and closed their leaves like gaping mouths.

Most interesting was a large plant which grew between the cracks of rocks with a delicate purple cone on top, upended like an upside-down umbrella.

“The Elders spoke of these.” Al hurried over to sniff at the upside-down umbrella flower. Then, with careful claws, he detached the cone portion and poured the liquid inside in his open mouth. “This nectar is the closest thing to fresh water around here. Just try to find one without many bugs in it.”

Cautiously, she tried one for herself. The nectar was light and refreshing, like the time she tried dessert wine at Ashley’s mom’s house.

She hadn't thought of her best friend on Earth in days. And thinking of her made her remember Lucas again.

What wouldn't she give to text him. Or just know if he was okay or not.

Shielding her eyes, she gazed across the gray, ugly alien swamp. _I'm doing the right thing_ , she told herself and ignored the tiny question which popped up more and more frequently in her mind. _Aren't I?_

 

* * *

 

That night, she and Al set up camp on a large flat rock that stood several feet above the water.

Morgan had found enough dry plant material—she guessed it was a sort of gooey seaweed that had been left out to dry—to start a fire, and Al pulled up several lobster-fish from the brine ponds.

He crunched on one without bothering to cook it, of course.

The long day’s walk had made Morgan hungry enough not to want to bother with an MRE. Taking her lobster (it had a lobster-like shell, but much smaller claws and a hugely distended body like a tick.) and stuffed it whole in the burning seaweed.

“What are you doing?” Al came over and crouched on the other side of the fire, watching her work with interest. “Is this some sort of human purification ritual?”

She smiled. “You’re telling me that Yellow Crests don’t cook their food?” Which was weird to think about. As far as she could remember, every culture on Earth cooked their food in one way or another.

“You’re charring the meat on _purpose_?” Al asked slowly, as if certain he must be missing something.

“I'm cooking it, not charring it. I won’t let it get far enough to burn.”

“But, why?”

She shrugged. “It makes tough meat easier to chew, kills bacteria and parasites. I don't know what toxic crap is in this water. It’s a good way to make meat last without spoiling if you can smoke it. Plus, it tastes better,” she added. “I’ll let you try some when I’m done.”

She let the "lobster" cook and steam until the blue shell cracked. Figuring it was done, she removed it from the fire and cut a bit off with her boxcutter.

The flesh was white and kind of rubbery. She took a tiny bite.

Not bad. The meat didn’t burn or tingle on her tongue. It was fishy and definitely rubbery, but add a little butter and she could almost imagine she was eating crawdad.

“It’s good,” she said in surprise and took a larger bite before she handed some to Al.

He chewed, looking like he was waiting for it to explode in his mouth. “You took out all the flavor and the juice.”

“Well, I make a mean rabbit stew. I’ll make you some when I get back home.” She glanced sideways at Al, realizing she wasn’t sure why she assumed he would be returning to the village with her, but he didn’t say otherwise, and she went back to eating the rest of her… lobster-thing.

As darkness drew in, the waters around them became alive with the sounds of creaking, plopping and croaking. It was like there were thousands of frogs, and every one of them had a buzz-saw voice.

Morgan got the uncomfortable feeling that night time was prime time around here.

Once the fire burned down, she spread the hot ashes and coals in a circle around herself and Al.

Either it worked, or large creatures weren’t on the menu. The nasties were kept at bay.

 

* * * 

 

 

The boggy landscape was as harsh and ugly in the morning as it was at night. Morgan and Al woke to a dense fog that only lifted to show sullen looking clouds by afternoon.

Morgan, who hadn’t slept well at all, tried to keep on the lookout for more creatures, especially predators.But eventually the landscape started to run together.

She was jerked back to alertness by Al, who suddenly stopped in his tracks.

“There they are.”

Morgan peered ahead. At first, she saw nothing but murky pools and dark rocks. Then she caught movement in the distance.

Two roly-poly creatures about the size of dogs were hoping in and out of a pool. From the distance and lingering fog, she couldn’t make out much except they were round.

She glanced at Al. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” he replied, heading forward again with a determination in his step. “I think those are fledglings.”

Shielding her eyes, Morgan peered out.

The creatures had spotted them and were standing as still as squirrels caught under a predator’s gaze.

Morgan waved. Their reply was to turn and plop back into the water.

“Oh, great,” Al said.

“Will there be more of them?”

No sooner had she spoken then a nearby brackish pool she’d thought was shallow came alive with movement. The adult Stone Seekers breached the surface, and Morgan realized why Al had figured the first ones were children.

These newcomers were _big_. Much bigger than herself and Al—the width of a dairy cow.

Three of them rose out of the water as easily as a seal breaching the surface—and they kind of looked like seals, too. Huge and pear-shaped with rubbery gray-brown hides of thick blubber. Their backs were sloped, ending in flipper feet, and their three joined arms ended in a four-fingered hand.

Morgan had no idea if she were looking at males or females—the three wore no clothes, but had the same pear shaped bodies without breasts or visible genitalia.

Most alarming were their perfectly round heads which ended in a long, flat snout that would have fit any Earth crocodile, complete with visible upper and lower teeth. Their large eyes were devoid of any pupil and stared flatly out at them.

All in all, the Stone Seekers fit right in with the rest of their habitat: Ugly.

Morgan forced herself to stand her ground. Judging by those jaws, these were predators. She didn’t want to show fear.

Al made a complicated sort of bow, fully extending his side wings in a sweeping gesture. “I’m Alphron’zikk, son of Matron Chtahan’zikk. This is my pride sister, Morgan.”

 _Pride sister?_ No time for questions. Morgan gave a small wave. “Hi. I’m Morgan Hennasey, from Earth.”

The Stone Seekers' attention turned to her, the focus of their flat stares intense. The largest made a sound that started as a goose honk and ended in a series of sharp clicks.

Morgan risked a glance at Al, who waved his tail in negation.

“No idea,” Al said quietly to her. “I haven’t exchanged languages with them.”

Which meant that unless the Stone Seekers had met humans, they hadn’t understood a word she’d said either. “Can they understand you?” she asked.

“Doubt it. These are just low-ranked outliers. We’ll want to speak to the equivalent to their Elders.”

 _These are just villagers who live on the outskirts,_ she mentally translated. “Then what was with the bowing?”

“It doesn’t hurt to be polite.” He gave a raptorish shrug.

The Stone Seekers let them speak without interruption. Then, with a series of high clicks, the ones to the right and left peeled off to dive back into the cloudy water. The one in the middle stayed on land. It turned and slowly began to shuffle away.

“I think it wants us to follow it,” Al said.

The Stone Seeker moved about half Morgan’s normal walking pace on land. It often took the opportunity to swim along the surface of the water while Al and Morgan stayed on the stone pathway.

They traveled for another hour. Morgan was getting hungry again. She stopped to drink from a couple umbrella cups. It helped.

Just when she was considering how to communicate that they should stop for a meal, they came to the largest, blackest pool yet.

It was about the size of a small lake, crusted with rainbow lichen around the edges. As Morgan watched, at least seven crocodile-snout heads popped up and honked at them. Their guide honked back.

None of the new Stone Seekers seemed surprised to see them. Word had already gotten around.

The newcomers swam to the edge of the pool trailing a thick, green rope between them.

Al groaned, low. “Oh, no. Here it is.”

“What?” Morgan asked.

His feathers had gone flat. “The Elders spoke of this: We’re at the entrance to the Stone Seekers' city. We have to go down.”

“Down? What do you—” She stopped as her heart lurched in her chest. “You mean, they live _under_ the water? Al, you can’t breathe underwater, can you?”

“No, of course not. The Elders said there’s a tunnel under the lake.” He jerked his head around. “There are air pockets under this entire swamp, carved into the rocks. We’re standing on top of their city.”

As he spoke, the Stone Seekers dragged the length of rope up the bank and set it by Al’s feet. They gave a wide berth to Morgan, she noted. They were familiar and comfortable with Al’s species. She, however, was a complete unknown.

Morgan smiled at the closest one. It visibly flinched back. Maybe showing teeth wasn’t a good idea.

She turned back to Al. “Okay. What’s with the rope?”

He let out a breath. “To… to drag you down in case you can’t sink. Like me. The Elders promised the journey wasn’t far…”

Finally, she understood. Poor Al. The tight way his feathers locked to his face made him look small and fragile. To dive underwater had to go against every instinct a creature with wings would have.

“It’s going to be okay, Al,” she said, hoping it was true.

“I know that! I… I know.” But his voice was high and just on this side of panic.

Morgan reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Deep breaths. I’m going down with you. Humans can swim, and if there’s any trouble I’ll get you back to the surface again."

"You can?" He looked at her. "You will?"

"Yes, of course. You can do this.”

“I know I can,” he repeated again in that same high voice, but reached down to tie the end of the rope around his ankle.

Thinking quickly, Morgan brought her backpack around and fished out her mylar blanket. Most of the supplies were water resistant by design, but the water looked gross and she would rather it not get anything wet if at all possible.

Unfolding the mylar, she wrapped it around the backpack and twisted the top. Then, on second thought, she took off her shoes as well.

Around her, the Stone Seekers clicked to each other in their own conversation. The appearance of her human feet brought a whole new flurry of gossip.

She wrapped shoes, socks, and backpack in the mylar and twisted the top, securing it with a shoelace. Hopefully it would be water-tight enough.

Al’s jaws were parted, the skin on his neck expanding and contracting with every breath in a sign of distress. The sooner they got this done, the better.

“Ready?” Morgan asked.

“If the Elders can do it, so can I,” he replied.

Tentatively, Morgan waded in. The water was ice cold and the bottom of the pool was unpleasant with slime. Gritting her teeth and holding the bag high, she made herself move forward.

She couldn’t see bottom, and almost ducked under when the lip of the pool dropped off suddenly. Soon, she was treading water.

Al was a lot less graceful, spreading his wings to bob along the surface. His claws could be dangerous if he caught her while paddling, so Morgan made sure to keep a few feet from him.

The Stone Seekers followed them out, also keeping a safe distance. One grabbed the other end of the rope and waited patiently.

“On three?” Morgan asked, wrapping the loose rope around her wrist.

“What?” Al shrilled.

She held up three fingers. “Three.” She dropped one. “Two.” She took a breath and so did Al. “One.”

She nodded to the Stone Seeker.

Some gestures must be universal because it ducked under. The rope tugged, and Morgan found herself being dragged underwater with a very unhappy velociraptor in tow.

 

* * * 

Whoever held the other end of the rope was seriously powerful. Morgan felt water rushing all around her. Within moments, the surface had completely disappeared leaving inky black all around her.

Then, rushing toward them was a bluish light.

Morgan blinked, not quite understanding what she was seeing until she realized the light wasn’t rushing toward her. She was rushing toward it.

It was a tunnel with glowing rocks on all sides lit in light blue, pale lavender, and sea green. The rocks grew more numerous and the light stronger as they were pulled in.

Then, the tunnel opened and the rope went slack.

Al popped up to the surface like a cork thanks to the air trapped within his feathers.

Letting the rope go, Morgan kicked upward, the Stone Seekers darting and clicking all around her. She had the feeling that if she showed any distress, someone would be there to give her a lift.

As it was, the journey had been so fast her lungs were hardly burning when she reached the surface.

At first, she could see nothing because Al was flailing, arms and wings flapping as he more or less panicked his way across the pool and to a nearby stone ledge.

“Are you okay?” Morgan asked, trying not to laugh.

Stone Seekers popped up beside her and clicked. She waved them off and paddled her way to the edge under her own power.

Al dragged himself out, looking like a half-drowned chicken. Cutting the rope free, he shook himself like a dog, spraying everyone around him.

Morgan stepped out of the pool, Mylar bag in hand, and stared.

She was in an immense cavern—probably an old lava tube— lit with glowing stones pushed into the wall in a multitude of colors: Buttery yellow, rose petal red, and the sea greens, blues, and purples she had seen underwater. The air was warm and humid and smelled sweet.

She thought she might be in the middle of a village. Dozens of Stone Seekers waddled to and fro, some tinier, rounder versions by their sides. Children? Some carried seaweed baskets filled with wiggling creatures, others strings of shells.

Rocky steps led from the pool, and standing at the top were four of the largest Stone Seekers she had yet seen. All wore glowing rock necklaces of every color. It probably meant something, though she had no idea what.

Morgan nudged Al with her elbow. He stopped spluttering and looked up.

Collecting himself, he did that complicated bow with his wings outstretched—though it looked less impressive with his feathers in wet disarray.

It was time she introduced herself. “Morgan Hennessy,” she said, touching her own chest. Then, in a moment of inspiration, she reached out with one hand to the closest Stone Seeker, who wore a blue necklace.

The Stone Seeker was quick on the uptake and copied the gesture. Within a moment, she was shaking hands with an alien.

It honked at her.

Then all eyes turned to Al, waiting. These were the equivalent of Elders who had traded languages with raptors before. They would be able to understand him, at least.

Al sucked in a deep breath. “My pack sister, Morgan, calls herself a human. She seeks information about the Makers and of this planet. She wishes to contact them.”

“And medicine, if they have it,” Morgan said.

“And receive the knowledge of medicine,” Al said. “As for me,” he took another deep breath and his lips peeled aggressively back from his sharp front teeth. “I have come to trade for revenge, and for the knowledge of tools of war. The Blood Wolves have destroyed my home nest. The Yellow Crests are dead. I am the last of my kind.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! The last quarter of the year is the busiest time for me, so I had to put this project on hold. I'm back now. :) Expect regular updates from here on out!

The immediate uproar from the Stone Seekers was impressive. Outraged honks and shark staccato clicks filled the cavernous space, echoing off the walls. It sounded like a bunch of very angry Canada geese.

Morgan stared in shock at Al. His own gaze was fixed straight ahead at the Stone Seekers, and he didn’t look back at her. 

“Al…” _Why didn’t you tell me?_  With effort, she swallowed the words back.

Al hadn’t told her, but she hadn’t exactly asked, either. She had been wrapped up in her own problems—worry about Lucas, the stress of travel, and trying to finding a way home. Aside from the very basics, she had asked almost nothing about Al’s people. Even when he mentioned that this planet was a battleground, she had let the subject drop.

 _I’m sorry_ , she wanted to say. _I’ve been a rotten friend._

But she could barely hear herself think over all the racket.

So, instead of speaking, she stepped to Al and put a hand on his shoulder. He glanced at her, blinked sideways eyelids, and then looked away again. But he didn’t shake her off, and it seemed as if his tensed muscles eased slightly.

Finally, the Stone Seekers with the necklaces gestures for silence. A few honked notes were exchanged among the group before the one with the blue necklace beckoned to Morgan and Al to follow.

Quickly, Morgan put her shoes back on, packed away the waterproof mylar covering, and swung her backpack over her shoulder.

The Stone Seeker with the blue Necklace waited politely, and then led them away from the entrance pool and into the… city? Town? She wasn’t sure, but it seemed to be made of equal parts stone pathways for walkers, and watery pools and canals for swimmers.

The water was of different colors, from angry red, vivid green, and an omionous thick black that smelled strongly of oil. Morgan and Al stuck to the dry paths.

As they walked, more Stone Seekers popped their heads out of the brackish water to stare at the aliens with unblinking eyes. Morgan gave a sarcastic wave, which caused a flurry of clicked comments at one another.

The pathways eventually led to a hallway, which was lit with more glowing rocks pushed into the walls. If there was a design, or a pattern to the lights, Morgan couldn’t figure it out.

Finally, the Stone Seeker with the blue necklace gestured them to step intoa round, stone room.

A Knowledge Transfer Device sat in the middle, though it was much larger than the one which had been at the boundary between the ranges. Its squat trapezoid base was easily as big as a minivan, and the cloudy gray globe atop was equally as large.

“That's Weird. Why is theirs so huge?” Morgan whispered.

Al glanced at her as if she had asked a silly question. “Because it has the knowledge of hundreds of species, of course.”

“Um.” She blinked. “That’s usually not how machines work. They don’t get bigger the more stuff you put into them.”

He cocked his head. “Why not?”

Luckily, she was saved from trying to explain about computer hard-drives to a raptor. The Stone Seeker with the blue necklace made a short bleating sound. When they glanced over, it gestured to the device. Then it deliberately placed its hands on the cloudy orb.

Oh. It wanted to exchange languages.

Morganexchanged a look with Al. Last time, it had felt like her brain had been taken out, stirred around, and then poured back in. Not something she looked forward to repeating.

“You can go first,” Al said, generously.

Morgan shook her head. “Roshambo for it?”

“What?”

She smiled, despite herself, and then took a minute to describe rock-paper-scissors. (Though Al understood it better as rock-hide-claw.)

“On the count of three,” she said, tapping her first against the flat of her other hand. “Ro. Sham. Bo.”

Morgan picked scissors. Al, the rock.

With a sigh, Morgan walked to the Knowledge Transfer Device.

The Stone Seeker with the blue necklace stood there, watching their hand game with no comment. She couldn’t detect any emotion in its flat, ugly eyes. This close, she noticed it had thick whiskers growing out from the end of its crocodile snout. It didn’t improve its looks any.

 _I really hope you don’t get any of my rude thoughts_ , she thought. Then, before she could back out, she placed her palms flat against the orb.

Just as before, it felt as if lightning zapped through her arms, straight into the middle of her brain.

She felt the Stone Seeker catch her as she collapsed.

 

 

 

* * *

 

Morgan came awake laying on a cold, wet stone floor. A headache throbbed behind her eyes, though it wasn’t as intense as it had been when she exchanged languages with Al. She’d call it a solid seven out of ten rather than a nine point nine.

Sitting up gingerly, she looked around. Someone had moved her while she’d been unconscious. Now she was alone in a room as big as her bedroom on Earth, with her backpack beside her. There was nothing like furniture or decorations, except for blue stones pulsing in the walls to provide a sickly light. The middle of the room was dominated by a pool of thick black liquid.

“Al?” she called, and got no answer.

Forcing herself to breathe through the pain, she braced a hand on the wall and stood to her feet. A wave of dizziness came and left. The headache dimmed slightly. This was definitely easier than last time—she would probably be able to move in a few minutes.

She was looking at the pool, wondering if it was worth the effort to taste it and see if it was water, when the surface rippled. A Stone Seeker poked his head out.

The movement was so sudden that she didn’t have time to react in surprise before it hauled itself out and stood. It was the one with the blue necklace.

“Ah,” he said. “You have recovered quickly. I am pleased.”

As with Al, he wasn’t magically speaking English. Now, his honks and clicks made perfect sense. She could understand him as easily as if she had grown up speaking the language.

“Where’s Al?” she asked, reaching down to grab her backpack… though the only weapon inside was her puny box cutter and the knife on her multi-tool. It made her feel better to hold onto something from home.

“The young Yellow Crest recovers in his own room.” The whiskers around his snout flared in amusement. “I am called Mud Bubble.”

“Morgan Hennasey.” She had a moment to wonder if aliens had last names. Maybe his was Bubble. “Call me Morgan.”

_And why have you separated us?_

“Morgan.” Mud Bubble seemed to look her up and down, though his blank eyes didn’t move within his skull. “The Council has asked me to speak to you before the viewing.”

“The… viewing?”

“Yes, through the Knowledge Transfer Device,” Mud Bubble said as if Morgan should know what he was talking about. Hadn’t they already traded languages?

“What do you want to know?” she asked uneasily.

“What else? About your people. We Stone Seekers trade in knowledge.”

Knowledge? Crap. She was only a high school student. “I…” She looked down at her hands. “I’m not sure I can answer all your questions.” More than that, she wasn’t sure if she’d be willing.

Mud Bubble flared his whiskers again. “What is it you seek from us, Morgan?”

“Answers.” She looked up, straightening her shoulders. “I want to know about who brought us here, why, and how we can go home. I want to contact the Makers.”

Mud Bubble let out a wheezing sound which was the Stone Sekeer’s equivalent of a chuckle. “The Makers contact us. It does not work in the reverse.”

“When do they contact you, then?”

“During the Great Travel.” He waved one multi-jointed hand toward the ceiling, indicating the sky.

“You mean, when they took you aboard their space ship?”

“Space ship,” Mud Bubble repeated as if testing the word. “How quaint of a term. Yes. Our journey here is a public story—that is to say, one which is free as it is common knowledge.”

She ignored that, driving toward the point. “So… you can’t contact them?”

“No one contacts them, Morgan. They are the Makers. They made this world. It is our duty to grow and learn what we can from it.”

That was a big fat no. Actually, it was worse than a no. It was a ‘No, and you should be happy with what you have.” Well, she wasn’t happy.

She had come all this way… and for what?

_I can’t give up yet._

“Medicine, then,” she blurted. “I still want to know whatever you have on the Makers, and about medicine, and… and you said I was the first human you’ve seen?” She waited for him to gesture in confirmation—Stone Seekers had necks which were too stiff to move up and down in a nod. They mostly waved their very flexible arms to indicate yes or no. “I want to know if there have been any other… colonies, I guess. Multiple groups of the same species which were put down in other ranges.”

“The last, I will answer for free: Never to my knowledge.” Mud Bubble let out a long sigh. “Which makes the news of the Yellow Crest people so shocking. The council hopes it is an exaggeration. Your friend is young, and perhaps prone to dramatics.”

“Al doesn’t lie,” she said, coldly. “I want to see him now.”

“Very well.” Mud Bubble replied, unperturbed. “We can walk, but it is much faster to swim. What would you prefer?”

She glanced at the gross, brackish pool water. “I’ll walk.”

 

* * * 

 

Mud Bubble led Morgan down a new series of twisting stone passages. She had to watch her step—the floor could be slimy with algae, dotted with pools, or slick at the spots where the Stone Seekers crawled out of the water and onto land. The walls were covered with glittering stones in spring green, yellow, red and coral pinks. Each was dimmed to about half the brightness of a normal lightbulb, which was a relief because her head still pounded.

Still, she was doing much better than the first time she had exchanged languages with Al. Before, she couldn’t even sit up for hours afterward. Now, the headache was just enough for her to hate life.

Stone Seekers must not have been big on privacy because none of the rooms had doors. Only arching entrances. There were creatures conducting business, eating, or arranging more glowing stones against the wall as if it were an art display. Morgan passed one larger room with an adult lecturing to little ones—students, she assumed, though they passed by too quickly for her to hear what was being said.

Finally, Mud Bubble stopped in front of one doorway. Through the arch, Morgan spotted Al who was sitting up, looking tired and alone.

She hurriedly walked in, dredging up a smile. “There you are. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” Though there was a look in his eyes that said otherwise. He was worrying a piece of dried seaweed in his claws, tying it and untying it over and over.

Mud Bubble waddled up, and Morgan quickly made his introductions. Al bobbed his head in greeting.

“The Council has gathered and are waiting to access the value of your knowledge, whenever you are ready,” Mud Bubble said.

She and Al exchanged a mutual, ‘Are you up for this?’ look.

The value of her knowledge? What knowledge? When she was in fifth grade she had memorized the capitols of every state. She might even be able to recall most of them, if she were really trying. Would that impress a Stone Seeker?

Plus, her head ached and she was tired. She hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep the night before while laying on bare stone and surrounded by ugly, utterly alien wildlife. Between that and her pounding headache, she knew she wasn’t at her best.

On the other hand, she had been gone from the village for well over a week. (Wow. Had it only been a week? It felt like a lifetime since she had met Al…) Lucas may or may not be in bad shape by now. Colton might have changed his mind and taken Neveah back. A thousand disasters may have happened.

They all needed help. She needed to get back home.

Morgan nodded once, and Al returned the gesture, rising to his feet, fluffing and resettling his feathers back into order.

She turned to Mud Bubble, only to find him watching their interaction with fierce curiosity.

“We’re ready,” Morgan said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: We finally find out what happened to Al's people...and Morgan knows more than she thinks she does.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for descriptions of violence in this chapter.

 

The Stone Seeker council was waiting for them in the room with the giant Knowledge Transfer Device.

Mud Bubble conducted the introductions and acted as Morgan’s translator since he was the only one who knew her language.(As it turned out, Mud Bubble wasn’t even the strangest name there. It was a close race between Fish Gill, Weather Eye, and Gray Water.) Each councilor was in charge of a separate academic field, which was represented by their colored necklace.

“Red Wave studies tactics and strategy, including the methods of war used by other species,” Mud Bubble said to Al. “It may be productive to trade knowledge with her, should she agree to the bargain.”

“Bargain?” Morgan asked sharply. “What do you mean?”

Mud Bubble’s unsettlingly blank eyes focused on her. “No knowledge is truly free. It must be traded for something of equal value.”

“So you aren’t big on libraries?” She waved off the question when Mud Bubble’s whiskers flattened in confusion. “Never mind.”

Al shifted from foot to foot. “I know all of my nest’s weavings in the basic and extraordinary materials.”

“We are not interested in weavings,” Mud Bubble replied. “Red Wave will be most interested in the methods the Wolves used to destroy your people.”

Al stiffened.

Morgan aimed a pointed glare at Mud Bubble. “You know, a little tact can go a long way.”And wow, she could practically hear her father’s voice come out of her own mouth as she said that. It had been one of his favorite phrases, which was ironic. Her dad regularly found a way to piss off anyone who knew him.

Mud Bubble did not apologize or acknowledge his rudeness at all. He simply turned his attention back to her. “Of course, as the first of your species to visit us, any knowledge you provide of your culture and former world will be unique. It will be worth much more than any others of your kind who visit us later.”

She hesitated, unsure if she should still be offended on Al’s behalf or not. Then again, it didn’t seem like Mud Bubble was trying to be rude. He was just… well. _Alien_. And weird.

“Fine. So, how does this work?” she asked.

He gestured to the Knowledge Transfer Device. “First, we must view the memory to determine its value.”

“I understand,” Al said, which was good because Morgan certainly didn’t. “I’m ready.”

Mud Bubble flared his whiskers in satisfaction and lumbered over to join the rest of the councilors.

Morgan hesitated. She wasn’t sure if she was on board with this plan. _View the memory?_ Could Stone Seekers read minds?

“Are you sure about this?” she asked Al in a low voice.

He flicked his tongue out in a pensively, then bobbed his head. “Someone should remember my people… even if it is a bunch of rude swamp slugs,” he added with a distasteful glance at the council.

Morgan covered her mouth over a smile. “All right.”

With another bob of his head, Al stepped away from her and up to the Knowledge Transfer Device. He, at least, seemed to know what he was doing.

The Stone Seekers stood waiting on the other side of the room, and made no move to join him. Apparently, this wasn’t going to involve two people exchanging languages again. Thank goodness. Morgan was certain her brains would leak out of her ears if she tried _that_ twice in one day.

Al placed his clawed hands flat upon the large globe. Instantly, the foggy surface illuminated as if something inside had been activated. A deep, warm hum filled the room.

Morgan jerked back in surprise as a beam of light shot out from the other side of the giant gray bulb to splash against the opposite wall. After a moment, it focused into a floor-to-ceiling spotlight. No, not quite a spotlight…

_It’s a giant projector_ , Morgan realized with a swift, unexpected pang of homesickness.

Her father had owned an old-school projector. In happier times, she and her little sister had traced pictures of landscapes upon butcher paper from projected slides her father and mother had taken when they were younger—all projected upon a wall a lot like this.

At first, Morgan wasn’t sure what exactly she was supposed to be looking at. The colors were off, with the reds and yellows more vivid, whereas the greens were washed down to a muddy brown split with streaks of vivid purple where purple shouldn’t reasonably be.

… Because this was how Al viewed the world. His eyes processed light differently than her own.

_This is Al’s memory_. That was what the Stone Seekers meant. They weren’t mind-readers. The Knowledge Transfer Device had the ability memories to life.

As soon as she grasped that, the image resolved itself into another Yellow Crested raptor. He sat like a resting goose upon the ground, his clawed feet neatly tucked under his body. Even sitting, it was obvious he was much larger than Al—probably a good six feet tall without his crest of glorious yellow and blue feathers adding attentional height. The black and white magpie markings along his wings were gorgeously vivid, as was the spray of yellow at the tip of his tail. He looked like a work of art.

Al, in comparison, looked much less mature. Like a painting half filled in.

The other raptor seemed to be sitting in a dark, cave-like place. There was no lightbulbs, glowing stones, or even a candle to give illumination. But Al could see just fine, which meant Morgan could, too.

The walls surrounding them weren’t made of rock or stone, like in a cave. It looked like plant material woven into tight interlocking mats.

The other raptor clutched several ropey green vines. His straight claws made soft click-click sounds as he weaved them together so fast that the vines seemed to be knotting themselves. No human master-knitter could have held up against a Yellow Crest. They had six needles instead of two, made up from their own hands.

Morgan tore her gaze from the projection to glance at Al. There was a rapt look to his face, his jaws slightly parted. He stared not at the image of the other raptor against the wall, but deep within the cloudy globe of the Knowledge Transfer Device. Morgan got the feeling he was seeing what was projected for them within the cloudy gray fog, instead.

Then the projection of the raptor’s voice filled the room.

“Matron and your sisters are out patrolling for signs that the eloon herds are on the move. It’s almost migration season.” The larger male glanced up. “I understand Matron has taken Krimzon’Lekk under her wing for this patrol.”

Al’s reply came from the device, slightly tinny as if from a recording. “Good. I’m happy for Krimzon.”

“You should be happy for your own sake,” the male corrected in a chiding tone of a parent to a child. “It would be a good match. The nest of Lekk is strong, and the girl is the first hatched daughter of her Matron. She would lay many eggs for you.”

“Dad!” Al sounded mortified. Morgan grinned. Apparently, kids being embarrassed by their parents was universal. “I don’t care about eggs.”

Al’s father didn’t bother to look up from his weavings. “You may not _now_ , but that will change when your mate leaves them in your care.”

“I thought Matron hated the Lekk house.”

“The Lekk do have… odd notions,” his father agreed.

“Salun said they let their males hunt with them, sometimes,” Al said in a rush.

“As I said. Odd notions.” Al’s father waved his tail in a so-so gesture. Morgan caught a flash of creamy white under him and realized with a start that Al’s father was currently incubating an egg of his own.

_The gender roles are reversed_ , she thought. Or, partially. Females lay eggs, and the males sit at home with them.

“I like to hunt,” Al said mulishly. “And I’m a better tracker than half my sisters.”

His father’s magnificent crest of feathers raised upward, making him look like an annoyed cockatoo. “Once your adult plumage grows in, any prey with eyes will be able to spot you from hills away.”

“But—”

“If you want to be useful today, go gather reeds. I need more of the medium weight if I’m to get this section done by sundown.”

Al shifted. “But if they spot the herds, they’ll come back. Krimzon might need me for the hunt—”

“No one with sense wants a male underfoot in an eloon hunt. Now go.”

Al made a snarling sound, but obediently rose. As he turned to leave, his father called out, “And clip them neatly. Don’t bring back any broken stems.”

Al didn’t reply.

The house—if it could be called a house—seemed to be made up of low, twisting tunnels. The floors were packed earth, the walls and ceilings made of the woven reed mats.

He passed wide open rooms with other males chatting with each other as they sat on eggs. Younger raptors played in games of chase along the tunnels, some standing only as tall as Morgan’s knees, with squeaky voices and soft gray down. They were unbearably cute.

Eventually, the tunnel sloped upward to open up to a field outside. Al stepped out, and Morgan was treated to a view of a completely alien landscape.

The tunnel Al had just walked through was one of many, all dug into a steep blue-green hillside like a giant rabbit warren. The nearby trees were spindly, with twisting branches and goofy bunches of leaves that would have made Doctor Seuss proud. In the distance, a herd of heavy creatures peacefully gazed. They sort of resembled cows—if cows had millipede-like legs and feathers.

Al trudged to a nearby field where stalk-like reeds grew higher than a man could stand. The colors ran the spectrum from red to yellow to a purple so deep it looked black. Again, Morgan got the impression that she was somehow missing a few color variances. There was dull gray where there shouldn’t be—like Al’s memory was showing something that Morgan’s eyes couldn’t understand.

Bending, Al used two of his finger-claws like scissors to crop the nearest reeds.

He was at it for a few minutes when a movement within the field caught his attention. He lifted his head as another raptor leapt out, nearly on top of him.

Al fell back with a hiss of displeasure. “Father told you to stop cutting through the field, Rammel! You’re breaking the reeds.”

The other raptor stood a head taller than him. In contrast to Al’s stark magpie coloring, her feathers were a tawny dull brown, edged here and there in dirty gold. Her heavy claws curled inward on her hands to look like curved daggers, and the short crest of feathers atop of her head was a bullish brown-red.

“Oh, go curl up on an egg,” she snapped. “Matron’s sent me back from the hunt.”

“Why? You’ve found the eloon herds?”

“No, scouts have picked up trouble on the eastern border. Aliens, from some other range. All the males and chicks are supposed to stay indoors until she says its safe. The matrons from the other nests are doing the same.”

Al dropped his bundle of reeds. “Where’s Matron and the others, now?”

“I just told you, at the eastern border—Where do you think you’re going?”

Al had turned to run back through the path his sister had cut through the reeds. “To help!”

“But Matron said—”

“Krimzon’s out there. She’d want me to help.”

“So? She’s not your mate yet.”

Pausing, he looked back at her. “I’m going, Rammel. Don’t try to stop me..”

She growled, one foot claw digging a sharp furrow in the soil. “Fine, but don’t come crying to me when father bites off your tail feathers for this.”

With that, she leapt straight up into the sky and used her wings to glide to the base of the raptor warren faster than she could have arrived at a run. On landing, she lifted her head to the sky and let out a cry.

Primed by Hollywood, Morgan had been expecting to hear a high-pitched velociraptor scream. But what came out was like the trumpet of an angry elephant—large and feral.

The effect was instantaneous. Raptor heads — mostly male — popped out from distant reed fields. Some took up the alarm, echoing up and down the small valley between hills with the sounds of alarm. Raptors began herding downy chicks into the tunnels.

Al didn't wait for the evacuation to be complete. He turned into reeds and ran.

It was like racing through a field of corn, with tall, thick vegetation on every side and zero visibility. Morgan had no idea how Al knew where he was going, but within a few minutes the reeds ended at the base of another sharply sloped blue grass hill. At the top stood clusters of other raptors.

Most were the dull patterned females. Full-grown, they stood at least seven to eight feet high. A few of the smaller, brighter males stood out here and there like glinting pebbles at the bottom of the river.

Cresting the top of the hill, Al headed towards one of the smaller, half grown female’s. They exchanged head bobs.

"I thought you would come here eventually,” the girl’s tone was warm and amused. Morgan guessed that this was Krimzon.

"It looked like a good day for a fight," Al replied lately. "What's going on?"

"My Matron thanks some other species is trying to scavenge the prey off our range." She pointed her snout towards another line of distant hills. "The nest matrons sent out a second wave of scouts, but… it’s been too long since we’ve heard from them.”

"What you mean?"

"If they haven't returned by now, they were captured, or killed." Krimzon words were flat and business-like, but she flexed her large claws dangerously. "You can smell the intruders on the wind when it blows just right. It’ll probably mean war.”

"I expect will have to kill every last trespasser,” another female replied, obviously eavesdropping. "Males and hatchlings alike, just to send the message. It won't be pretty. You sure your male is up to it?" She added, looking to crimson.

"I can do anything you can," Al said. "And I'll look better doing it, too."

The other female showed her teeth, but turned away.

Krimzon’s own short head-crest rose in amusement. She bobbed her head at Al again, deeper this time, and leaned in close. Her voice was low. "No matter what else happens, stay with me."

"I will."

A sudden cry of alarm filtered down from the line of raptors. On the opposite hilltop, a line of distant figures emerged, silhouetted against the double suns.

At first, Morgan thought that they might be more Yellow Crests. Then, suddenly, it was his if someone had hit the zoom feature on a camera. The far away hilltop jumped forward in a blur, and then resolved in a close-up view.

Al's eyes have some sort of telescopic lens built in, she realized.

The image focused, and it became clear that they weren't raptors at all.

"Wolves," Krimzon murmured, echoed by other voices around her. “Damn. I thought they were ranges away from here."

“Wolf” was the word that Morgan’s brain had translated the Yellow Crest phrase into. In truth, the other aliens looked only vaguely like wolves, in the Earth sense.

Larger than a dog, but smaller than a man, the wolves had fur-covered bodies in shades from the black to gray, with a few sunny blondes here and there. Their heads and faces were doglike, with pricked ears, and wedge-shaped snouts.They stood at attention, crouched backward on two hind feet. However, an extra set of arms grew out from muscled shoulders, ending in very human-like hands.

Unlike the raptors, which seem to be grouped in family clusters, the wolves formed up in neat ranks that made squares. One large wolf stood at the head of each square, like a captain. They held no weapons, but gleaming teeth peeking out through parted jaws.

There had to be dozens of ranked squares. The wolves, whoever they were, had brought an army.

One of the larger female raptors — a Matron? — screamed a challenge.

Instantly, Al's vision flicked back to close-up mode. Around him, other raptors pointed their snouts to the sky and screeched out war-bugles. Al added his own voice, slightly deeper, but no less enthusiastic.

On the opposite hill, the wolves watched silently.

If these were two opposing human armies, this would be the point where terms would be exchanged… At least from Civil War and other old-time war movies she remembered. Someone would ride out and exchange notices of intent/insults with the head of the other army.

Nothing like that happened here. Then again, neither spoke each other's language.

The raptor’s screams died off into the empty air as there was no visible reaction with the wolves. Glances were exchanged with one another. Everyone seemed baffled over the wall silence.

Then, one female marched forward, her brown and gold wings extended in threat. "This is our territory! This is our range! Leave it, or die!"

Another female screeched out, “Sisters! Defend your mates and your nests!"

It seemed to be the moment everyone was waiting for. As one, the raptors surged down the hill, or else gliding the short distance with wings outstretched. Al and Krimzon ran forward, too, but Al's shorter legs meant he fell behind most of the females.

The wolves waited with eerie, disciplined, silence.

Only when the raptors, still screaming ululating war cries, reached the bottom of the hill and started to move up was their movement from the wolves. With a guttural command, the ranks moved forward… but only enough for make room for more wolves — soldiers, Morgan realized with a chill— to appear over the top of the hill.

The raptors hesitated. Some slowed. Others called out warning.

But they were committed to the charge, now. The largest in the lead bounded forward and leapt upon the first line of wolves with wings and claws spread.

From that moment, the projected image jumped and shifted multiple times, probably following Al's jerky memories of the events. One second, Morgan had a crystal-clear view of a wolf bowling into a raptor. The raptor was taller but her body broke under the force of the rush as if she were made of glass.

Hollow-boned, Morgan realized, remembering how she was able to throw Al off her when he had first attacked her backpack. The raptors were tall, it didn't weigh much for their size.

The image jumped again. A wolf snapped at Al with rows of needle-like teeth. It missed by a hair. Al slashed with his claws and caught it across one eye. The wolf reeled back a screaming yelp of pain. But it never broke from its place within the line, and when its neighbors on the right and left moved forward to help, Al was forced back.

After that, it was a blur. Al's vision flashed from long-range to close-up, too fast to make sense of what he was seeing. The growling, crunching sounds of bone breaking, and shrieks of agony from two species filled the room. Morgan wanted to cover her ears, but if Al could endure this, she should be able as well.

The projection stabilized again. In a flash, Al and Krimzon worked as a team to take down one wolf, only to have three others its place. One grabbed Krimzon’s arm in crushing jaws and twisted its head upward at an impossible angle. She screamed—

"I can't!" Al gasped, eyes wide. He wrenched his hands away from the knowledge transfer device, staggering.

Morgan didn't think about what she was doing. Rushing over, she stopped herself just short before she pulled him into a hug. Crap, he wasn't human and he might think that was an attack. This close, she saw fine tremors ran up and down his body. His nerves had been stretched to the breaking point.

She couldn't imagine going through a battle like that once, much less having to share it all over again with a roomful of strangers. "It's okay," Morgan said. “That was terrible. I don't blame you at all."

Al sagged. "I ran away."

Her heart went out to him. "I think I would have, too.”

"This is unacceptable," said the Stone Seeker with the red necklace. Mud Bubble had introduced her earlier as Red Wave. "We must have a full accounting of the incident for this memory to be viable."

Letting go of Al, Morgan turned to put herself between them. “Why don’t you just… just back off!” Not her finest comeback, but it was the thought that counted. “It's his memory. He can share as much of it he wants."

There was a pause as Mud Bubble translated her words for the others. Only he knew Morgan's language.

Red Wave folded her multi-jointed arms in front of herself primly. "Incomplete information is worse than useless. It is all too easy to come to the wrong conclusion."

Wow. Turned out that being a bitch was universal. Morgan opened her mouth, but Mud Bubble stepped between them.

"The Yellow Crest is young, and of course this memory would be upsetting to him," he said to Red Wave. "Would a verbal report be enough?"

Another council member, Gray Water, looked more haunted from the memory than the others. "You could append your memory of his verbal report to the end, Red Wave. Surely, that will suffice."

Red Wave clicked her jaws together again, looking sullen and sour. "It is far from ideal, but it will have to do."

Mud bubble nodded and turned an expectant look to Al.

Al drew in a long breath, but few seconds of rest seem to have studied him. “I saw at least one more of my clutch sisters pulled down by the wolves, but I'm unsure what happened to the others. My Matron saw me, and told me to run back and warned the nests. I… I was scared." He looked down at his feet. "So I turned tail and ran as hard as I could. I was too afraid to look back. I didn't want to see anyone I else I knew, die. But when I got to the hill which overlooked the nests, I saw…” He paused again and took a deep breath. “More wolves had approached from the opposite direction to attack the nests directly. There were bodies everywhere, and… smashed eggs. They were in the tunnels and they were running out down chicks who were trying to escape…"

Hot bile rose up in Morgan's throat. She forced it back down. She was glad Al hadn't been able to show this part. It didn't sound like something she could ever unsee.

"I never thought battle could be like this. I didn't want to die either." He swallowed. "So I fled."

"Where?" Red wave demanded. "To which direction?"

"To the south. I had heard of your people to the elders, and the knowledge of all the species that you had of all things, including war. I thought if there was a way for one male to get revenge on the wolves, you would know it."

Red wave dismissed the last portion with a sharp, impatient gesture. “And your journey?"

Morgan wasn't sure what she meant, but Al replied, "I expected to find bare, blank ranges, but the makers had recently remade one into Morgan's world."

"Wait," Morgan said, mind racing. "Wait… You're saying your home is practically next door to us?"

Al nodded, human style. "Fifteen days journey."

Oh crap. How many miles was that? Did the wolves know about her range yet?

Now was not the time to grill him, but suddenly Morgan found herself _very_ interested in what the Stone Seekers had to say about war, too.

Meanwhile, the councilors had gathered together to discuss Al’s memory. Several were blowing fat bubbles in displeasure.

Al had… sagged, for lack of a better word. He stared listlessly at his hands, all of his feathers pulled tight against his body.

“Al, I’m… I’m sorry,” she said lamely. “Krimzon seemed like a nice…” What? Raptor? Mate? “Girl. Are you sure she’s…”

“The whole field was bloody,” he said.

Which wasn’t a positive yes, but she had the feeling he hadn’t stuck around to identify bodies.

“We have saying,” she said, trying to think of something, anything, to be helpful. “‘It’s not over until the fat lady sings.’ I… um, don’t know what it means, exactly,” she admitted, “but you don’t know for sure they’re all gone.”

Al was silent for so long she wasn’t sure if he heard her. “Our saying is ‘Don’t let the egg cool until it’s hatched’.”

“I think I like that one better,” she said.

Mud Bubble shuffled up to them. “Red Water is not satisfied with the quality of the memory.”

Al looked sick.

“No,” Morgan said, rising. “If she wants war, she can get it from me. Can I use my memories as payment for him, right?”

It was hard to tell, but Mud Bubble looked slightly taken aback. “If that is your wish, although… Forgive me, Morgan, but I took you as part of a prey species. You appear to have no claws or natural weapons. What do your people know of war?”

She smiled, showing teeth, thinking of all the war movies she watched. Documentaries she’d caught, video games she’d played.“Whatever you want to know.”

The Stone Seekers thought Al’s memories of watching his own people being killed was unsatisfactory? Well she could show them all the first few scenes of Saving Private Ryan and blow their minds.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Mud bubble turned her. “Red Wave’s request can wait. We are all eager to assess the value of your memories, Morgan.“ 

Suddenly, Morgan got the uncomfortable feeling that the horror of Al's memory was like an opening act. She was the new species. The main spectacle.

Part of her wanted to tell Mud Bubble to take their evaluations and shove it. The more reasoned parts knew the was the only form of currency she had in order to get her own answers. A tiny portion of her heart ached to see her dad and sister again.

She rose to her feet. "All right. I'll give it a shot."

As Al had done, she walked up to the Knowledge Transfer Device. Holding her breath, she placed her palms flat upon the cloudy globe.

The fog lit up from within. Then, unexpectedly, she found herself gazing at her mother's face.

Morgan thought her memories of her had been dimmed by time. But now, her mom stood there in the fog as real as life, cooking dinner at the stove.

As a little girl, Morgan hadn't noticed the dirty dishes piled up on both ends of the sink, the dark bags under her mother's eyes, or the guilty smile. She had only known that her mother was awake for once. This was a memory of a time before all the rehabs, the broken promises. Before her mom had skipped out with her new boyfriend like Morgan and Emma had never existed.

"Mommy!" Morgan heard herself call out in a light, child's voice.

And that sent her brain skittering to all the times her mother _hadn't_ been there when she should have. Like the time Morgan’s dad dropped her off at Wal-Mart, alone, to pick out her first bra.

_Oh God, I don't want the aliens seeing this…_

Her thoughts jumped, and so did the visions she saw in the fog which were then projected upon the wall.

Scattered, unconnected memories: Fishing with her father, Emma’s high laugh, and in the next second her father again as he worked under their car. Struggling with her sister for the remote control as a voice on the TV sang out, “ _Ohhhhhhh… Who lives in a pineapple under the sea…_ ”

Distantly, she heard the Stone Seekers murmuring surprise. Red Wave muttered that the quality of this memory was even worse than the last.

Morgan pulled her hands away. The globe went dim. "I'm sorry! I don't know what I'm doing!”

"Concentrate on a single memory," Mud Bubble said. "Picture it clearly within your mind."

Morgan frowned at her hands, then at the Knowledge Transfer Device. "Is this thing recording everything I'm thinking?"

"Record," Mud Bubble repeated in his own language. "What odd phrasing. Yes, whatever you show us will be kept within our library for all of time."

Well crap. There were certainly things she wanted to keep to herself. What if everyone saw all the times she wanted to kiss Lucas? Her cheeks felt hot, and she knew she was blushing.

_Stop it. Aliens won't care if you like a boy._

But doubt swelled up, and she dropped her hands to her side. "I don't know…”

“You do not have to show us war, today," Mud Bubble said as if they had not just watched the Yellow Crest massacre. "Show us your world, Morgan. Show us the day that you left it."

"Oh, because like that's not emotional?" But something specific did give her a starting point.

Predictably, Mud Bubble ignored her outburst. “Start with waking up in the morning and walk us through the day from start to finish.”

Okay. She could do that. Morgan took a deep breath and forced herself to remember. It has started with… oh yeah. One of her dad’s stupid end of the world drills. Kind of funny, in hindsight.

She laid her hands flat on the globe. Within a second, the blare of the smoke alarm—so familiar and right—screeched through the room. And then she saw herself argue with her father.

It was weird. She normally couldn't recall what she ate the previous day, especially back on earth when having a meal was as easy as opening a box and pouring out cereal. But, as she walked through her own memories with the assistance of the Knowledge Transfer Device, every detail came back to her in crystal clear quality. She watched herself make breakfast, text her sister, and get ready for school. 

Remembering the way Al's memories flashed past points in time, she skipped her bathroom visits.

At first, she was concerned that she was boring everybody, and thought about skipping her drive to school, too. But the stone seekers found the car fascinating. She supposed it would be, to creatures who swam.

So, Morgan took a room full of aliens through a typical high school day. She heard the occasional murmurs: It seemed Mud Bubble was taking notes, and would say things like, “Males are typically larger than females, with impressive whisker growth," and "four-limbed structure. Mostly symmetrical designs."

Her classes, too, were in crystal clear quality. That last day on Earth, Morgan had sat through English, Calculus, and Chemistry II, before lunch.

Now those lectures would be recorded on an alien planet until the end of time.

Her concentration slipped once or twice as she approached the lunch hour. By that point, she had been sitting in the same position, her hands against the globe for hours. Her muscles were growing stiff.

Gritting her teeth, Morgan force herself to power through.

And there was Lucas. His hair was a little shorter. She hadn't realized how much it had grown out since landing on the planet.

 _I had been so angry with him_ , she realized as she recalled their conversation at lunch. Angry and suspicious. Seeing it all over again, she still wasn't sure if it was justified or not, but he had been so friendly, and she’d just thrown up walls. Walls that they were just beginning to break down before...

Before she knew it, she was watching the fight between Colton and Lucas again. Viewing it for a second time, without the shock and surprise, details were clear as it hadn't been before. Now, Morgan saw how Colton was bleeding from his nose and one ear. Lucas must have gotten a couple of good shots in before Morgan had arrived. Then Lucas was knocked down, and Colton—

Morgan ripped her hands away from the Knowledge Transfer Device. The image faded into the fog before Colton could stomp down.

Breathing hard, she looked across the room to see a wall of alien eyes staring back at her.

Al stood nearby, too, his head cocked. His expression wasn't one of judgment. It was curiosity.

"Sorry." Her voice sounded loud in the room. "I got… Distracted."

 _Almost done_ , she told herself. She wouldn't let Red Wave claim _her_ memories were incomplete.

Letting out a breath,Morgan laid her hands back upon the globe.

They were back in the cafeteria as the rumbling started, and she forced herself to think about that moment and no other. She ended the memory upon waking up on the dome, mostly because she wanted to see Earth again. She held onto that picture of her planet, staring at it with hungry eyes, before she lifted her hands away for the final time. 

She’d done it. Emotionally, she was drained. Physically, she felt brittle, as if her body was about to crack into a million pieces and drift away in the air. It wasn't just the act of concentration—though that had been a strain at the end—it was seeing her old home. Her old life.

A life of cars, public school, society, and all the casual technology she had taken for granted despite being told all her life that it would go away.

A clawed, three-fingered hand rested on her shoulder. It was Al, copying that bit of body language in support she had awkwardly given to him.

She turned and gave him a sickly smile. "I'm okay. Thanks." 

"Your world…”. Al tilted his head and blinked. "It is very strange."

She huffed a laugh. “I guess it can be.”

“That male. Lucas. He’s the one you wanted medicine for? Taking care of your males is important.”

Oh geez. “We take care of each other. I hope… I hope he’s okay.”

Her gaze drifted past him. The council was huddled together, talking. Despite knowing their language, Morgan was too far away to pick out what was being said.

 _My memory had better be good enough for them_ , she thought fiercely.

Finally, Mud Bubble, who seemed to be the official liaison for the group, broke off from the group to approach them.

“Thank you for your memory, Morgan. Yours appears to be a fascinating planet. If you had not told us otherwise, we could believe you were a Maker.”

Her stomach dropped down past her shoes into the watery rocks below. “We aren’t. We’ve barely got off our planet.”

Stone Seeker’s crocodile mouths and fixed, unmoving eyes didn’t convey a lot of emotion. Nevertheless, Morgan got a sense of excitement from him. “As Councilor of Alien Cultures, I will allow you and Alphon’zikk access to our libraries—all our libraries—in exchange for one memory a day.” He paused and the whiskers across his snout flared in anticipation. He clearly thought he was being generous. “Weather Eye, who is the Councilor of Trade would like more memories of the technology and tools, if you can. We have never seen a culture with technology to equal the Makers.”

“None?” She looked at Al, who shrugged. “Then I came here for nothing?”

“I would not say that. All the wealth of our centuries of knowledge is in here. And of course, here.” He raised his hand and brushed her forehead with a tentacled finger.

She slapped his hand away. “What does that supposed mean? You can’t—Oh God, I’ve come all this way, and for what? If you can’t help me, who can?”

They hadn’t seen a car, or anything like a car before. No computers. No electricity. The Stone Seekers had no more way to get off this planet than she did. She should have stayed in the village. At least then she could have been by Lucas’s side in case he didn’t get better.

Morgan wasn’t prone to panic attacks, but she felt very close to hyperventilating. The enormity of her failure pressed down on her, making her feel like she couldn’t breathe. The Makers—whoever or whatever they were—were out of reach. And she… she had stupidly taken herself so far from the only other humans on this entire planet. There was no help for them. None at all. They’d all go Lord of the Flies soon, if they haven’t already.

As usual, Mud Bubble didn’t seem to notice her rudeness. “It is rare to discover a species with a formal school system. How many years of education have you had?”

His question took her off guard and neatly cut through her distress like a knife. “Since I was four. So… thirteen years, give or take.”

Mud Bubble repeated her words for the council, which caused a new flurry.

“What is school?” Al asked.

“Like… training. To get a job when we’re grown up,” Morgan replied. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Mud Bubble repeated, shocked. “Young human, there are entire cultures who are born, live, produce offspring, and die in that amount of time. You have the equivalent of lifetimes of knowledge.”

“Sure, the alphabet and books and… and US history. None of that can help me!”

She turned away, eyes burning. “I can’t… I need space.” She needed to get out of this ugly, bog range and go back to Lucas.

“Of course. We have prepared rooms for your stay.”

“Morgan is my pride sister,” Al said sharply. “We’ll room together.”

Why? Not like she cared. Numbly, watched as Mud Bubble directed a young Stone Seeker to make preparations for a larger, joined room before he shuffled back to speak with the rest of the councilors.

Exhausted, Morgan leaned against the nearest wall, then sank down and put her head in her hands.

Al sat next to her. “That male, Lucas. You wanted him to be your mate? I’m sorry he was hurt.”

“I don’t know if I wanted him as my, um, _mate_ or not. But that’s I came out here. No,” she shook her head. Why was she lying to herself? “That’s the _excuse_ I gave for coming out here. I wanted to help his broken knee and all, but the truth is… I want to go home.”

“Oh.” Al seemed shocked. “I’m sorry for his loss.”

“He’s not dead.” _At least, I hope not. Lucas, I’m so, so sorry…_

“Broken legs aren’t fatal to humans? But how can he walk?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.” Her laugh was a touch hysterical, even to her own ears. “I don’t even play one on TV…”

She stopped.

She had just replayed a day in its entirety including class lectures she probably couldn’t have recited if her life depended on it. But the Knowledge Transfer Device had plucked it all out of her head, authentically.

Was that what Mud Bubble was trying to tell her?

“Morgan?” Al asked, looking concerned.

“I think…” She shook her head. It was too hard to explain. Rising, she strode back over to the Knowledge Transfer Device and laid her hand on it.

Her brain had been sluggish thanks to the marathon recording session, but adrenaline was a hell of a drug. Gritting her teeth she forced herself to remember the first time she read her book on edible mushrooms.

Then… there it was, rising out of the fog. She was in her father’s cabin in the woods, the book resting on her lap. In the fog, she watched herself flip open the cover to the first chapter: The basics of mushroom identification.

The page was in crystal clear quality.

 _It’s all here_ , she realized. _I have access to it…._ _I have access to_ **all** _of it._

Everything she had ever read. Every TV show, documentary, every lecture about preparing for and surviving end times that her father had dragged to….

Mud Bubble had wandered over. “Morgan. Are you well?”

She tore her gaze from the fog. “Do you have writing tools? Something to write on?”

Mud Bubble made an affirmative motion and turned to gather their equivalent of a pen and paper.

If the Stone Seekers couldn’t help her, then maybe she could help herself.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look for the chapters to come pretty fast from here on out.

Mud Bubble was as good as his word. Both Morgan and Al were granted access to the Knowledge Transfer Device in exchange for Morgan uploading at least two hours’ worth of her memories every day.

It was a good deal, but Morgan felt vaguely guilty. The Stone Seekers expected to learn all human culture, and all they got in return were memories from the point of view from a lower middle-class midwestern white girl. But at the same time, there was nothing she could do about that. Her point of view was the only one she had.

She and Al had been given a room and offered food and water during the Stone Seeker’s four mealtimes (one of which was in the middle of the night.) Stone Seekers were carnivores, and the fish and lobster-like creatures they served were bland, missing all salt and spice, but were offered both cooked and raw. Apparently, humans weren’t the only species who cooked their meals.

Most of Morgan’s time was spent in the room with the Knowledge Transfer Device.

For the first couple days, she probed into her own memories, focusing her attention three ways: survival skills, medicine, and tactics of war for Al. She drew knowledge from TV shows, websites, war movies, documentaries, books, and whatever classes she could think of from school that might be useful.

It was both less and more helpful than she could’ve imagined. For example, she replayed a TV episode of a medical drama on knee injuries, but the show’s actors had treated it with the help of an X-ray machine, which wasn’t something just laying around. She couldn’t do surgery like in the show, either. There were plenty of documentaries on Middle Ages warfare that had impressed Al. However, those focused on the effects and usage of trebuchets, but not how to make them.

At her request, Mud Bubble provided her with the Stone Seeker equivalent of paper, which were basically leathery strips of seaweed, and a finely pointed chalky rock to use as a pencil.

Stone Seekers made ‘books’ by sewing the strips together and then winding them around specialized sticks. The end result looked like roll of toilet paper. Still, she was able to record a couple useful things: Gardening tips, and the method of growing penicillin on moldy fruit, for example.

Al had no concept of a written language at all. Morgan got the impression he thought writing was a waste of time.

By the end of the first week, Morgan had grown used to using the Knowledge Transfer Device. She dived into the vast store of alien information. The Stone Seekers had the recorded memories of over thirty different species. There had to be _something_ useful.

Only, the cultures she saw were so distant and… weird from her own human experiences, she could barely parse the information. Not to mention she didn’t understand the alien languages, and to trade a language with Mud Bubble would cost even more of her memories.

It was hard going. Morgan had always treated school seriously, but had never been big on studying for the sake of knowledge. So when she was feeling frustrated and overwhelmed at the end of the day, she pulled up memories of Lucas: the times they had played together as children, or the quiet moments they had spent in the village. Never the lonely years when he had abandoned her for cooler friends.

She missed him, and rewatching the most recent memories she saw how he looked at her in a way she hadn’t noticed the first time.

Mud Bubble walked into the room as she was re-examining the memory of his knee injury, trying to glean something she could look up in a medical show later. Mud Bubble offered nothing, only watched Morgan’s memory with his expressionless eyes.

With a sigh, Morgan lifted her hands from the foggy globe. “Did you need to use this?”

The Knowledge Device was always in high demand. As soon as she or Al left the room at the end of the day, a Stone Seeker would waddle in to take her place. The only reason she got so much time with it was because humans were still a novelty.

“No,” Mud Bubble answered. “I have come to speak with you of all you have seen within the globe.”

“Oh?” Crap. Had she been using it too much? Done something wrong?

“Walk with me,” Mud Bubble said.

That was fine. Her eyes felt like sandpaper, and she was ready for a break. She rose, every muscle in her legs protesting. She had been sitting on the cold ground for longer than she thought. Stone Seekers weren’t big on chairs.

Mud Bubble waited politely for her to get the feeling back in her legs, and for her to grab her bug-out bag where she’d stashed it in the corner. (She had gotten in the habit of taking it with her everywhere she went after returning to her room only to find all the contents inside had been shifted around as if someone had taken them out, examined them, and put them back in again.) She swung the backpack over one shoulder. Together, they walked out of the main tunnel, which she’d learned was called the ‘research hive’, and across twisting pathways of stone which had pools of differently colored water on either side.

“How have your studies progressed?” Mud Bubble asked.

She wrinkled her nose in distaste, and he honked out his version of a laugh.

“Yes, I have spent decades studying alien cultures, and there are certainly frustrations. We are all very different. I advise new students to be patient and to keep an open mind.” He looked down at her. “It has been reported that you have accessed our logs of other species’ journeys to this planet.”

“I know you said it was a waste of time, but I had to see it for myself.” The Stone Seekers had the knowledge of over thirty other species, but only three direct memories of other alien races being taken from their planet, including Morgan’s. True, she hadn’t had the other languages of the other aliens, but she hadn’t needed them. The events that brought them here were similar: People who had led normal lives until they were suddenly ripped away from their homes and placed in a confusing, frightening space-dome. Watching their memories had been almost as unsetting as watching her own.

“I was hoping to… I don’t know,” she sighed. “I wanted to know if anyone had seen the Makers, I guess. Find a clue for why they brought us here.”

“For a species who call themselves Wise Man, you would think it would be obvious,” Stone Seeker said, “But you are young.”

“I… What? We don’t call ourselves—”

“ _Homo sapiens._ ” Mud Bubble surprised her by using the actual word, not the Stone Seeker equivalent. It was weird to hear Latin coming out of a crocodile mouth. “Or, ‘Wise Man’. The explanation was in one of your memories of an English class.”

“I…” Morgan shut her mouth. She suspected that her memories were being examined after she left the room at night, but hadn’t realized to what extent.

_What else am I giving away?_

“I have been studying alien cultures for decades,” Mud Bubble said, almost gently. “I am used to teasing out nuances.”

Morgan shook her head and tried to get the conversation back on track. “Until I met Al, I didn’t even know a second language. Just English. All of this is new to me.”

“Yes. Differing languages within the same species isn’t unheard of, but forgive me Morgan, your race does appear to be unusually fragmented.”

She shrugged. “Earth isn’t perfect, but I still want to go back.”

“That,” Mud Bubble said, “would be most unwise.”

“Why?”

He blinked once, long and slow, as if she were being a slow student. “Did you not see the memories of journey? All of us were saved from dying worlds.”

Surprise had her stumbling in place. He kept moving on, unconcerned, and she had to hurry to catch up.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean?”

“It was the same with our people. By the time the powers of the Knowledge Transfer Device were discovered, the first generation of Stone Seekers to be transplanted here had died out. We have no direct memory, but we do have records. Plague had been sweeping across our home world. Entire colonies, twenty times the number of this,” Mud Bubble swept his multi-jointed arm around to indicate the active marketplace, the families and workers bustling back and forth, “were dying. The Makers took one of the remaining colonies untouched by the sickness to bring to this world. You have accessed the other memories of the Jadarts and the—” He made a mush of noise that Morgan’s human ears refused to parse. “Did you not see the comet in the sky?”

“Yes, they were worshiping it.”

“They were begging it not to fall like the others before it. They knew it would doom their world. I have their language.”

“But…” _Oh God. Emma. Her father…_ “But Earth isn’t in trouble. There are more than seven billion people on our planet. We’re not about to go extinct. We’re fine.”

“Really?” he asked and she got the impression she would have raised his eyebrows if he had any. “Do you not remember your science class on global warming? Do your own fragmented countries not wage constant wars? Does your own father not preach that the collapse is coming?”

Chastened, she looked away.

“The Makers surely saw what we have seen, Mud Bubble continued. “Learning of your advanced medicine and how to grow food is both productive and right. Morgan, you must accept that not only were you were saved, but now, there may not be anything to go back to.”

Grief, anger and frustration welled up in her. She wanted to scream at him. She looked into those alien eyes. “If something was going to happen, I should be there, with my family.”

“That would help no one.” Mud Bubble stopped and Morgan looked around, realizing they had walked all the way back to the main entrance pool to the city. They were far from the only ones. All the councilors had gathered together at the lip of the pool. Their arrival had caught the attention of others in the city. Stone Seekers who had been working and shopping in the vast marketplace peeled off to gather in a growing crowd.Excited honks and clicks bounced off of walls, and filled the air.

“What’s going on?” Morgan asked.

Mud Bubble wore a look of satisfaction. “We are blessed with a visit.”

That was the first time anyone had said the word blessed. Weird. The Stone Seekers, and Mud Bubble in particular, were such a logical type of people with no religion she’d seen so far.

Then it hit her what Mud Bubble meant. The crowd of Stone Seekers was gathering around the pool in the same way they had when she and Al had arrived. Were they were about to meet another new species?

“Excuse me, I must take my place among the council.” With that, Mud Bubble began pushing his way through the crowd. Seeing the blue stone of rank in his necklace, they gave way.

Even as an honored guest, Morgan didn’t receive the same sort of treatment. She stood on her toes and looked around. In a mass of gray bodies, Al’s colorful feathers made him easy to spot. He stood not far away, looking as confused as Morgan felt.

“Looks like we won’t be the only aliens here anymore,” she said, once she pushed her way towards him.

He acknowledged her with a bob of his head, his expression turning sour. “We will probably get less time on the Knowledge Transfer Device.”

Damn. She hadn’t even thought of that.

He glanced at her. “Do you think it could be more of your people, come looking for you?”

Morgan blinked. She hadn’t even considered that. “I don’t think it’s likely, but… maybe?”

She looked at the calm waters of the pool with hungry eyes. Abruptly, she wanted to see Lucas again so badly that it hurt. And Timberly and Leah. Hell, she might even give Colton a hug.

But wouldn’t Mud Bubble have mentioned if their new visitor was another human?

“I don’t think it’ll be another human. It seems like they value the memories of new species.” Her lips twisted in a smile. “I’m old news.”

Al tilted his head nearly sideways as if he were pointing an ear toward the high stone ceiling.

“What is it?” Morgan asked.

“I can hear yelling, coming from above.” He went silent for a few seconds, straining to listen. Morgan didn’t know how he could hear anything over the racket of the crowd. After a moment, he shook his head. “I can’t tell what they’re saying.”

She looked around the gathering crowd. News was spreading, and more Stone Seekers were gathering to get a first glimpse of the new visitors. Family and friends clicked greetings at each other in a relaxed, holiday feel. The waters of the entrance pool remained calm. Nothing suggested that anything was wrong.

Still, a bad feeling crept up her spine. The same quiet, persistent sense of doom she got back when she believed her father’s rants about the end of days, and when she saw Colton and the rest burning their seasoned lumber.

Morgan backed a step, her shoulders brushed the soft belly of a Stone Seeker. He clicked in annoyance at her. She murmured an apology, though he wouldn’t be able to understand her. The crowd was thick, all standing close.

“I don’t like this,” she said to Al.

He glanced at her, then to the pool. “My sisters would be sharpening their claws right now.”

She supposed that was a Yellow Crest saying, but it wasn’t a bad idea. Morgan swung her bug-out bag around and dug inside until she found her trusty multi tool. Her box cutter, she always kept tied to her ankle using a length of improvised shoelace.

A quiet hush fell over the assembled crowd. The pool of water.

The head that broke the water’s surface most definitely wasn’t human. Its fur was plastered to wet skin and its dog-like snout gasped for a breath of air.

“Oh, crap.” Morgan’s words were lost over Al’s outcry.

It was a wolf.


End file.
